


Mighty Long Fall

by hystericalcherries, njckle



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Disney - All Media Types
Genre: Alive!Tadashi, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Bonsai Bombers, Gen, Original Character(s), San Fransokyo's crime ring, Sumo Wrestlers, The Fujitas (Big Hero 6), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, samurais
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 163,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hystericalcherries/pseuds/hystericalcherries, https://archiveofourown.org/users/njckle/pseuds/njckle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since that tragic day and Hiro finally gets his second chance. Though it isn't exactly what he imagined, he'll take it, doing everything and anything he can to ensure that his brother lives. Whether it's dealing with Yokai or San Franksokyo's crime district, including those ever evasive Fujitas, Hiro will do what he must- no matter what the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone prefers Fanfiction to AO3, this story is also available on that site under [hystericalcherries ](https://m.fanfiction.net/u/4590804/hystericalcherries).
> 
> Also, pairings/ships don't make the story, so if you don't like a certain pairing/ship that pops up later that's fine. There may be some small moments and allusions here and there for whatever reason (usually comedic purposes), but at this point in time we're not expecting anything big concerning romances. If you want to read the story because it interests you, we won't be forcefully shoving anything down your throat.
> 
> On that note, enjoy!

Sunlight streamed into the room belonging to the brightest mind of San Fransokyo, Hiro Hamada. The robotics prodigy and local genius lay reclined in his chair, long fingers tapping along the edge of the keyboard that rested in his lap. Slanted eyes quickly scanned whatever document was captivating his attention as a hand came up and mindlessly brushed hair out of his face. He remained still until moving onto the next document, skinny shoulders slumping as he leaned his cheek against his fist, expression immediately turning into one of boredom.

Somewhere, a phone buzzed.

Sluggishly fishing the device out of his pocket, the teenager glanced at the caller ID before answering, “I swear Fred, if this is another call begging me to create a serum that induces spikes to grow along your spine, my answer is still no. “

“No, It’s not-” Came his friend’s muffled voice.

“It’s impractical at best.“ Hiro swiveled in the chair, cutting his friend off while he dumped the keyboard among the chaotic mess of his desk. He flicked some hair out of his eyes again and said, “It would get in the way of everyday stuff, for one. Plus, it would look kinda weird, you know, with just random spikes. What would you even need them for?”

“I’m not calling for- Wait? Impractical? No, no, no, little man, you gotta see the overall picture. Spikes have so many uses, like-” Fred’s monologue was cut short by a curse, causing Hiro to start, hand going out to brace against his desk, effectively stopping his revolution. The younger boy heard a scuffle on the other end of the call and stood up, mouth opening to say something.

“Hiro?”

“GoGo?” He breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar voice. “Phew, I thought something was wr-”

“Callaghan escaped prison.”

And just like that, all the air escaped him. He nearly dropped the phone, wide eyes resembling saucers, as his mind did a summersault and tried to stretch itself over this new information. He muttered a small ‘ow,’ the phrase almost involuntary, and heard the reassuring _beep, beep, beep_ as Baymax inflated into existence.

“What? When did this, when did he… H-How?” Hiro stumbled over both his words and the items scattered around his bedroom floor as he tried to get ready, body switching onto autopilot even as his mind still reeled; he shrugged on one of his older jackets, one that he hadn’t outgrown in one of his many growth spurts a few years back, and thankfully located his backpack under a mess of clothes, shouldering it. “Where is he now?”

“We don’t know yet. But we have a pretty good idea where he’s going.” Came her curt reply.

Hiro nodded to himself as he ignored Baymax’s polite ‘ _Good morning, Hiro. I hope you had a balanced breakfast_ ’ and grabbed the robot’s arm, hauling him down the steps to his Aunt’s cafe with an unrivaled urgency.

“Krei Tech.”

* * *

Big Hero 6 landed outside of the building of Krei Tech within minutes of the call, the clear ringing of the alarms in the air and deafening. Alistair Krei himself was there to greet them, looking both worried and angry. Along with him was his secretary and a few guards who didn’t look any more composed than their CEO. Within seconds of their landing, Hiro’s feet barely touching the ground, Krei was on them, his people close behind.

“How could you let that- that maniac escape?” Were the first (loudest) words directed at the group, though Hiro felt as if the accusation was aimed just a bit more toward him than the others- still, he kept his shoulders straight and head held high, keeping the air of authority and surety that he had fought long and hard to earn. “You know that he has it out for me!”

The teenager lifted his visor and took a good look at the multimillionaire. Krei hadn’t changed much over the years, looking just as professional with his tailored suits and perfect hair as he had when they first met, though there was a wrinkle or two that was new. Right then, he looked a little more shaken, his hair not as neat and his clothes a bit more crinkled, his voice dominating over the others.

Hiro resisted the need to roll his eyes, used to the man’s attitude, briskly walking past him and forcing him to follow to continue on. His team followed faithfully, the sound of Baymax informing one of the guards that he had too high a cholesterol and should respond accordingly in the background.

“I didn’t know our job description included babysitting criminals day-in and day-out.”

The entrepreneur frowned, eyes narrowing at his remark, “No, only the lunatics.”

Now it was Hiro’s turn to frown. Some part of him wanted to defend the once well-renowned scientist, as it always did when confronted by people who talked badly of the man, but he held it in. Although the man had spiraled toward madness, using violent methods to reach his goals no matter the consequences, there was reasoning behind all it. Reasoning that he understood, something that others never really bothered to look more into, just labeling the actions of that of a madman.

“So what’s the situation here?” He asked, wanting to stay clear of the earlier conversation. Krei was now leading them down a large, sloped hallway, a red light pulsing along with the alarm every ten feet.

“He’s on level B, which is right below the basement. All the staff was evacuated- which isn’t good for business, let me tell you, and I’ll probably lose a fortune over today’s setback.” The younger man gave him a pointed stare, causing the entrepreneur to cough into his fist awkwardly. “Right...well, we don’t know what he has on him and I’m not going to risk my entire company on a man who may or may not have control of thousands of tiny robots.”

After a quick glance at the others, Hiro refrained himself from mentioning that there was only a handful of microbots still in existence, all of which were sitting in a small jar atop of his dresser back home.

“How did he get down there?”

Krei’s assistance spoke up, “Our system was revealed to have been hacked.”

Hiro managed to stifle the snort threatening to break through. Callaghan was a well-known scientist around the world and he had the intelligence to receive such recognition and respect, but Krei Tech wasn’t as advanced and amazing as they claimed if a single man could break in with only a day’s notice and little to no preparation.

“What’s he doing down there anyway.” GoGo asked, never one to keep the conversation from straying for long.

Both Hiro and her instantly zeroed in on the way the older man hesitated, finding suspicion in how the victimized complaints were suddenly stalled in favor for silence. She popped her gum, deliberately chewing loudly as she stared at the sweating man.

“Yeah, it’s not like you have any top secret projects down there that can ultimately end the world as we know it. Like in issue thirty-three of-” Honey Lemon efficiently shut Fred up, elbowing him just above his kidneys, somehow finding purchase through his thick costume, causing the other to yelp girlishly.

Krei fiddled with his collar, looking like he was in an interview gone wrong, not answering.

“Oh no. There’s something really dangerous down there, isn’t there?” Worry colored Wasabi’s voice, his hands flapping up and down in anxiety, voice rising in pitch, despite his experience with these sort of situations. His question remained answerless. “No, I don’t even want to know… wait, yes I do. What’s down there?”

Krei opened his mouth-

“Is it some kind of huge mech robot? With, like, advanced lasers and guns. Is it the Missing Link? I bet it’s the Missing Link. Or maybe it’s a death ray. Those are awesome. I mean, I’ve never actually seen one in person, since Wasabi said it was a stupid idea, but I bet it’s really awesome-”

“Now is the time to stop,” Wasabi held up a hand, glaring at Fred, “before I slap your face off.”

“Mr. Krei...” Honey supplied helpfully, making a gesture for him to continue.

The man loosened his tie, “It’s, well, a continuation of Silent Sparrow.”

There was a short duration where no one spoke. It was a quickly broken by the whispered shouts of the team.

“Are you serious? You better be joking or so help me,” GoGo hissed, face contorting in anger, “Why on earth would you do that? Especially after what happened because of it- or do you not remember how everything went to hell because of that stupid program.”

Krei, for his part, looked to have reclaimed his usual aura of authority with the revaluation. Sure hands straightened the lapels of his suit jacket, smoothing over its folds and creases, as his back erected to its full height. He looked down his prominent nose at them, becoming all at once the successful businessman and head of a world-leading company. “The world goes on despite the end of our own. Despite the losses, I will make sure advancements are made.”

The man walked on, not turning back to see their pained expressions, entourage dutifully following him in a parade of clicking heels.

Hiro forced his expression to remain schooled and gaze steeled forward, even when he felt the pressure of his friends’ eyes drilling into the back of his head. Unwilling to think about tragedies that never fully healed with time and where the blame lay, he moved to follow the businessman.

Finally, they came to a door, reinforced to such a degree that Hiro almost felt intimidated- which was absurd, because it was just a door. Krei stepped up to it, placing his hand on a scanner that protruded from a wall and waiting impatiently for it to grant them access. Then there was a release of air and suddenly they were stepping into a room not unlike the one that housed the portals on Akuma Island.

At the room's center stood something that looked vaguely like the portal Hiro remembered swallowing Krei Tech years before. In actuality it looked more like a giant doorway than a portal, but that didn’t stop Hiro from gazing at it in awe. Wires connected its metal frame to multiple console stationed behind and next to the device, which blinked and twinkled in the dull light. It was only when he blinked a couple of times to clear his head that he noticed that something was humming, the sound so low that it was near impossible to pinpoint where it came from.

There was some sort of podium where Hiro assumed a control panel possibly stood, the only fact confirming this being the figure currently hunched over it.

It was Callaghan, still his his prison garb.

Hiro tried not to let it show how much it hurt to see the man responsible for his brother’s death, out and about, and not behind bars. It hurt, remembering, even after all these years. He swallowed loudly, pushing those vulnerable feelings somewhere they couldn't hurt him, locking the door and throwing away the key. He stepped forward.

“Callaghan,” he called out across the room.

“What? No Professor?” The older man didn’t so much as twitch, eyes never straying from whatever task he was trying to get done, and Hiro couldn't deny the chill he felt at the faraway look that accompanied the man's spitting tone and drawn expression; it greatly contrasted with the framed image of the distinguished mind that stood proudly in Hamada Hall. “No one respects their elders as they should nowadays.”

“You lost that respect the night you let innocent people die for your revenge,” he answered immediately, brown eyes hardening. Hiro could now practically feel the worried stares of his teammates directed at his back and he drew strength from their presence. “I know you couldn't have forgotten it- I haven't.”

The older man's hands momentarily froze, but they soon continued their work, faster than before.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s kick this guy’s butt!” Wasabi, usually so grounded, exclaimed. Plasma blades shot out of his forearms, buzzing when he moved even in the slightest. However, he was stopped from taking a step forward and initiating the battle, Gogo’s small hand holding him back with a stone grip.

She nodded toward the genius clad in purple, her voice clear and final. “We do this Hiro’s way.”

There was an unspoken message passed through them all at those words, one that had them relaxing from their battle stances. Honey clutch a yellow ball to her chest and tried her best at an encouraging smile, the snarling face of Fred's mask doing an impression of a bobble head next to her. They were all in agreeance. Callaghan was the first villain any of them had faced, but he was more Hiro’s decision than theirs.

Tadashi had been their friend, but he had been Hiro’s brother.

Hiro was about to say that he didn’t mind just kicking the disgraced man’s butt all the way back to prison, but found himself stopping those words. He blinked, confused at the realization he had come to so suddenly: he did not, in fact, want to hurt Callaghan.

This man, driven by thoughts and emotions he, himself, could so easily relate to, had taken a road that could have so easily been Hiro’s under different circumstances. He could have zoned in on the anger and resentment over losing a loved one, wanting to carry out the “justice” that his murderer so rightly deserved. And he almost had, in the beginning. The genius didn’t like to imagine what he would’ve done if that anger and grief had won out, not sure if his brother would've recognized him if he had.

He pitied- no, not only that, he _empathized_ with the man.

Pitied him because he had chosen anger over forgiveness, hate over love, and now, when everything was said and done, had truly nothing left to fall back on-nothing left to give and nothing left to take, a void. He was a broken bot with no purpose, thrown away at the first signs of rust.

Looking at the fallen man, guilt washed over Hiro, his mind going back to times where he unthinkingly saw the man as mad like everyone else, letting the masses fog his perception.

He needed to help him, be there for the man as his friends were for him, even if it was a little overdue.

“Professor Callaghan," he began, thinking Tadashi would have tried to talk things out, violence never being the answer in his book. "What are you doing? What's the point of all this?”

Despite expecting an answer, he still twitched at his old teacher’s voice.

“I want a better life. A life where I have my daughter back, where I can see her, where I can be with her.” A stubbled Adam's apple bobbed as he paused to swallow, a flash of guilt settling on his face before it was replaced by one of crazed determination. “And I can’t have that in this one.”

He flipped a switch from the sea of the many and everything went berserk.

Suddenly lights began flickering on, sparking where wires weren't properly connected and aligned, reacting to the portal's dizzy march toward wakefulness. The lights hanging overhead tilted in the direction of the machine, some of them ripped from their wiring at the sheer intensity of whatever pull it had on them. They and other other appliances and machinery not tied down were torn from their places and, spinning dramatically, flew into the growing, swirling mass of light that bloomed at the room's center. Emitting a dull purple and blue hue, a gateway formed. Like a cosmic flower, tendrils of stardust spread outward, its clockwise motion truly entrancing and almost hypnotizing. The metal frames vibrated in such a way that he had a hard time distinguishing what was metal and what wasn't; the effects weren't localized, spreading until the room shook in a way that called for concern, far more erratic than any earthquake Hiro had experienced.

There was no twin portal, giving anything devoured in its colorful abyss no option of returning.

"The machine has been activated." Baymax supplied helpfully over the loud cries of alarm from his friends. The robot extended a massive hand toward Hiro, "I suggest you step away Hiro, as it seems the machine is highly unstable."

However, said teenager dodged the nursebot's grasp, stepping away from him and towards Callaghan.

Krei blanched, backing away, fear taking sole residence over his features, “It hasn’t been human tested yet! Calculations for a living organism passing through haven’t been completed, the resulting effects are still a mystery-”

A distant gaze, greyish pupils and red rimmed edges, snapped to the businessman, filled with a deadly fire in them hot enough to scorch a person's very soul. “Now you gain the humanity to care about the test subjects, Krei? Tell me, where was that years ago? Where was that with my daughter?”

“Your daughter knew the risks she was taking- and, look, she's safe! Perfectly safe! Don't you remember? She made it out alive and safe! I didn't kill her! I didn't-”

“But you sentenced her to death!” Callaghan roared back, hair whipping around his head. “And me- you killed me along with it. I can't even see my little girl and it- it's all because of you!”

The entrepreneur could only sputter in response, somehow looking a bit ashamed and furious at his former colleague’s words; he seemed to know from past encounters that his words wouldn’t help the situation when concerning the man and kept silent. His entourage was dismantling, backing away from the machine with wide eyes, while his assistant was pulling at his arm, trying to guide him toward the door and safety. They all seemed to know of the danger that presented itself with the machine on and running.

 _Something's going to go wrong_ , a voice in the back of Hiro’s head was repeatedly yelling out, _Callaghan’s different_. The man was changed, with nothing to lose and everything to gain. He was a cornered animal, ready to strike out, but scared and angry all the same.

“There are other ways, Callaghan. This isn’t the only option.” Hiro continued to walk toward his former idol, slow and steady steps almost seeming casual despite the strange gravitational pull that was tugging at his body, ignoring Baymax and his friends' consistent warnings.

The man shook his head, muttering to himself as he gripped the podium, knuckles turning white. “No. This is the only way I can be with my Abigail.”

Out of the corner of his eye, the rest of the group was spreading out around the two, keeping their distance because of the machine but slowly coming closer. Krei’s group of concerned investors had all but left the room, a few running back through the hall while Krei and his remaining guards were pressed against and clinging desperately to the walls. The teen turned his attention away from them and back to the man backing towards the ever glowing portal, the lighting giving his face a sunken look.

"We can talk about this." Hiro finally reached the controls, hands grasping them to keep himself upright, and the tugging even stronger now, it taking his entire strength not to have his legs slide out from under him. Eyes glanced over the controls, glazing over momentarily when the genius realized he hadn't even an inkling of an idea of what controlled what. "You don't want to go through there. You might not make it out."

The unspoken ' _alive'_ was left hanging, swinging before them like a pendulum in all its uncertainty.

The once world-renowned scientist shook his head with greater passion, finally taking a step back and towards the glowing doorway, making Hiro's blood run cold. “Whether or not I die, there’s still a chance. Anything will be better than this life.”

And with that Callaghan threw himself back, eyes closed in a twisted form of acceptance.

The teen’s breath caught in his throat, eyes wide, as he fully processed what had just happening.

Callaghan was giving up, throwing everything away, and Hiro couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ let that happen. Whether or not the man had done terrible acts in the past, because if there was one thing Tadashi had managed to grind into his mind, it was that no one deserved to be given up on.

So, with an involuntarily leap forward, Hiro shot out a hand to grab hold of the man and try and pull him back. But then that strange, gravitational pull tugged at him once more, pulling with such a force that he tumbled right after him.

He had time to yell out a “No!” before he was swallowed whole by the unknown.


	2. Out the Rabbit Hole and Into the-

Traveling through the portal was similar to his first trip years back with Baymax, both disorienting and thrilling at the same time. The endless space that surrounded him was filled with kaleidoscopic colors, dust and cloud-like shapes shifting all around. Reds, blues, and greens- every color on the spectrum was present, some even he never knew existed- they merged and swirled about, making it difficult for his mind to comprehend it all.

It was breathtaking, all of it. His trip into the transporter years earlier was filled with hazy memories, his panic-filled mind only focusing on the danger and the mission at the time, not fully able to appreciate what had been before him in all its vast beauty. It was a mass of colors, a landscape where paint had almost been haphazardly thrown upon it, but it coming out strikingly beautiful all the same.

It was a Mandelbulb come to life, something he never dreamed of seeing, something his younger self hadn’t pieced together.

The pull that Hiro felt at Krei Tech was still present, but not as violent and strong; gravity was nonexistent in comparison, the feeling of weightlessness coming over him. He felt his body drift forward not of his own accord, something setting him on a specific course to some unknown destination.

Hiro tried not to think about how lost he was and how much he wished Baymax were here, or how all his friends back home would barricade him once he got home, ranting about the danger and his lack of self-preservation. Instead, he focused on the out-of-this-world sight before him, silent and stagnant, leaving his mind to settle on the problem before him. There was a reason he was where he was.

Callaghan was in here somewhere.

It was easy to pinpoint the speck of difference in the vivid space, the dull spot that popped out like a sore thumb. And then all of the awe that he felt for this portal- universe, dimension, whatever it was- dwindled instantly, replaced by horror when his eyes found his target.

There, floating in the distance, was Callaghan.

The man was as motionless as the space surrounding him.

Hiro instantly understood, unable to stop the strangled-yet-whine-like sound that came out from the back of his throat, hand coming up to touch his helmet with silent gratitude. His breath hitched and he had to take a moment to calm himself down. He did so with only minimal success, breathing under check, though his heartbeat remained irregular and threatened to blast through his chest.

He tried not to look too closely at the body or how its eyes bulged out of their sockets and looked at him with that unnerving, blank expression. Frost covered the body, giving it an almost mannequin resemblance, making it look more and more like the corpses he usually saw in horror movies.

But this was Callaghan, he told himself, not some random character that he’d guessed would be the victim from the very beginning. He was real. Someone who he’d talked to and interacted with only a few moments ago. Someone he was trying to save. Someone he had failed.

His gloved hands curled into fists. The only thing left of Callaghan was a dead body no one would ever mourn, save him, and an infamous legacy of a broken man. It was not, he felt, what he deserved, nor what he wanted for his once-idol-turned-villain.

It was then, as he watched the body drift away, that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

He had to find a way out of this mess, and _fast_. He had to get out before he followed the professor’s footsteps and this place be branded his tomb. The portal was different than the first, he concluded, the danger amplified tenfold. Hiro remembered Krei's words on how the device hadn't even been tested properly and it suddenly occurred to him that he might die.

He wanted to panic. He wanted to scream, to cry, and to be scared out of his wits. He wanted to be five again, curled against his brother's chest as he murmured sweet nothings, dauntlessly fighting away the younger's meager fears away. He wanted to feel Baymax's reassuring hug, so warm and filled with so much compassion it was hard to believe he was a machine. He wanted someone to _be there_ \- but no, he was alone.

Before his could lose it he took a deep breath and tried to ignore both the nervousness settling in his stomach and the sight of the lifeless body floating in front of him. His brows furrowed after a moment or two, mouth setting with determination as he came to a conclusion.

It was time to be his own hero.

The longer he stayed where he was, he was paving his way to his grave. He considered the factors in his situation, mentally starting a timer for two- no, one minute.

His breath hitched again, suddenly making him all too aware of the exponentially decreasing amount of oxygen he had. His helmet gave him an advantage that Callaghan didn’t have, but not by much. It would run out sooner than later and he would surely die, that is, if the possible radiation and decompression didn't get to him first.

There was a moment- one that he couldn’t afford to lose, much less waste, panicking- where he frantically searched for an exit out of the void, the way back home. Twisting, he glimpsed the way he’d entered, seeing it almost a football field away and getting smaller. The pull had been dragging him farther and farther away, limiting his options to one.

When tears threatened to escape, only to freeze against his skin, he activated his thrusters.

Luckily, there was no debris that had to be maneuvered through this time around, for which Hiro was grateful; there was no room for error. So, following the strange pull at his center, he angled himself in said direction, catching a glimpse of swirling mass of white light ahead of him. He made sure to keep his gaze forward when he soared past Callaghan (one look and he’d break).

It wasn't until a few second passed that he started to feel lightheaded, head throbbing to the beat of his troubled heart. And it wasn't until a full thirty seconds passed from his initial count when he finally felt the pressure in his chest. What had first felt like a small discomfort to be easily ignored transformed into a undeniable ache, eventually becoming so unbearable that Hiro had to gasp for air. His mouth opened wide, nostrils flaring, as his body tried to relieve its pain.

Solution: oxygen.

Error: no oxygen present in atmosphere.

Diagnosis: suffocation

Hiro would’ve laughed if he had the air to spare. Even in this desperate situation, Baymax always seemed to get into the mix, his presence so consistent that the teen created his own internal nursebot when he didn’t have one present with him in the material world.

Hiro felt his eyelids grow heavy and he was suddenly aware of how tired he had become. They drooped as his attempts to breath became less and less fruitful.

 _No_ , he warned himself, trying to kick himself back into consciousness, _don’t fall asleep_.

He tried to spark his brain into activity, supplying complex matrices and quadratic equations to solve, but his thoughts and focus slipped. His mind lulled until he couldn't remember what was what or why he should even care.

The last thing he saw was a flash of white, before everything went dark.

* * *

 

Waking up was always hard for Hiro. It was hard to leave his hazy dreams and submit to the harsh sunlight that always seemed to draw pleasure in attacking his bleary eyes.

Waking up from a near death experience- now, that was something else, a whole new level of difficult, not to mention disorienting. This time around, he regained consciousness faster than he ever had in his life, but with nauseating after effects.

Brown eyes fluttered open, his body jerking awake and gasping for air. His vision flickered and the world spun, which disagreed considerably with the headache he suddenly found himself sporting. He blinked slowly as to try and make sense of what he was seeing, along with clearing his head of all the jumbled thoughts that wouldn't organize properly.

Soon enough his vision wasn't spinning and he could make out definite shapes and colors, even the occasional small detail.

Like the small detail of how he was no longer floating in a suffocating dimension.

“Wha-!” Eyes widened as he tried to jerk himself into an upright position, but only succeeded in cracking his neck painfully, making him cut off his words with a groan. He just made do with laying there longer, testing whether his body was whole, wiggling his toes and fingers. When his check came out positive he slumped completely onto the floor, boneless. He wasn’t dead, the words rang throughout his mind in a continuous loop, effectively calming his rigid nerves, he wasn’t dead. It didn’t matter that there was something underneath him so that his back was arched uncomfortably and that he had the most horrific headache and he was probably sorer than he had been in his life, he was alive.

As time passed and his momentary adrenaline spike dwindled, his brain calmed, effectively allowing it to make sense of the information his senses were sending him.

And at once he could certainly say that he was in a darkened room, lying on his back and staring at a familiar tiled ceiling.

 _Properly assess your health_ , his inner voice, which sounded uncannily like a certain nursebot he knew, whispered, _it is your primary concern_. He did so, ignoring his surroundings once again, trying to remember the catalogued information of medicine he retained from Baymax’s constant lectures.

No broken bones, but extensive bruising on his back and shoulder, maybe muscle deep, especially if his aching muscles had anything to about it. Surprisingly stiff, his armor seemed to weigh him down, pressing painfully into the more tender points of his body; the pain more focused on his right shoulder and upper back, as well as hip- he had come crashing through the portal, no doubt, leading to his current predicament. Albeit a little pained, his breathing was no longer constricted, only a bit heavy and… visible?

It was then that he noticed how cold he was- _freezing_ , in fact. Shivers racked his entire frame, relentless shuddering as if he’d just come straight out of the San Fransokyo Bay during the winter. He made to hug himself and regain whatever heat he had lost, only to be met with resistance. When had lifting his hands become so difficult? Curling his fingers was almost impossible, battling the resisting force and hearing faint crackling as he did so.

He twisted awkwardly, hard to do so with the lump underneath him, trying to glimpse at whatever was on him.

A paper thin layer of frost was encasing the entirety of his armor. It looked like most of it was slowly coming off, melting or chipping off as he struggled to move his limbs. The edges and joints of his armor had larger pieces of ice wedged into their small cavities, effectively obstructing any advanced mobility, and looked to be in need of personal attention- and an appointment with a miniature chainsaw.

Slowly but surely he regained most of his motor functions back, allowing him to pull himself to his knees. Once he was able to bend his joints, brushing off the ice, his suit seemed significantly lighter. The wave of dizziness that passed was not as strong as before, making him feel a little better. As did the motion of rubbing his hands against his upper arms and thighs, the friction sparking enough warmth to get his blood flowing again and a sigh to escape his lips.

Hiro attempted to take his helmet off, only to find that it was stuck. After a few tugs, coupled with some twisting and breathless curses, he finally had the damn thing off. He discarded it unceremoniously on the ground next to him, gaping like a fish as he took a large lungful of fresh air. The air was warmer around him, making his cheeks burns, but he welcomed it, the feeling of a thousand small pins prickling his skin. His gloves followed suit, letting him get feeling back into his locked and cramped fingers.

He spent a few moments cupping his hands over his mouth, his warm breath lingering like a worried mother. It wasn't long until he felt warm enough to get down to business.

His top priority, he needed to take an inventory.

First, he took a look at his helmet, inspecting the damage. Despite the large amounts of ice, the intercom appeared to be fine. He wiped at his visor, checking on the inside whether or not anything had been fractured or crushed. Luckily, it was whole and undamaged.

Next, he checked his gloves, thankful to see that nothing seemed to be broken- he had just upgraded them not too long ago and was thankful that his work hadn't been for nothing. The capacitors in his gloves were useless, depleted of all power, which was somewhat expected, especially with how much of his suit's power had gone to his thrusters. Those were also in reasonably good shape, though he wouldn't be flying anytime soon until the ice melted completely.

Feeling at his back told him that the lump he’d been laying on had been his backpack. He was eternally grateful that Honey Lemon had gotten him to start carrying an extra set of clothes in case of emergencies. He’d have some of his tools with him too, if only a few.

Overall, his situation wasn't as bad as it could’ve been.

He leaned back, letting himself slouch there for a moment, thinking quickly. He needed to know the basics: what, where, how…

He _should_ take things slow, putting body over curiosity. Baymax had told him countless times that rushing through things after a strenuous ordeal would patronize his health and, although he joked and waved it aside more often than not, he knew the robot was right. Yet, despite this, once again Hiro found himself disregarding logical reasoning in favor of his antsy mind and body, both keen on answers and action.

He jumped to his feet. Well, at least, he tried to. His knees gave out a bit when having to take on his entire weight, both hands having to fly out and stop his almost face plant into the hard floor.

Wiping his palms on his pants and glancing around, the teenager took in his surroundings. He turned in a full circle, absent mindedly picking up his helmet and gloves.

Despite the earlier lack of efficient lighting, his eyes adjusted, glancing this and that way. He observed the open space and the high ceiling, which made the few lab stations spread about look tiny in comparison. And if the expensive style and technology he saw was any indicator, he knew exactly where he was.

Krei Tech. But… that wasn’t right.

It was a disaster zone the last time he had laid eyes on it. Things overturned and flying everywhere, people in disarray and scrambling to get places, alarms screeching and lighting the place a red hue. However, what he was currently looking at greatly disagreed with what he knew to be true.

He walked over to one of the stations cautiously, letting his gaze sweep over its pristine surface top and settle on a mess of papers laying there. Frowning, Hiro bent forward and squinted down at the words.

_Krei Interprise, Transportation Division, Group: 42A, Subgroup: XI, Trial: 10, Error Rating: 33.1%, Time Duration..._

He flipped through the pages, glancing over the charts and graphs, his interesting fading. It was only when he found a section dedicated to monetary values that he took a moment to raise his eyebrows, letting out a small, yet drawn out whistle, before continuing on.

 _Power surges absent, stabilization of electron…_ Again, Hiro went through, the information not new to him; his knowledge of quantum physics was more than adequate enough to follow the notes and reports. It isn’t until he finally dwelled deeper into the notes that he slowly started to get engrossed, the science and steps behind that experiments starting to pique his interest.

_...was tasked with the purpose of collecting information describing the teleportation of material objects, providing a description of teleportation as it occurs in physics, its theoretical and experimental status, and a projection of potential applications._

Brown eyes skipped down a few paragraphs.

_Negative quantum vacuum energy can be created by a single moving reflecting surface (a moving mirror). If a mirror moves with increasing acceleration, then a flux of negative energy emanates from its surface and flows out into the space ahead of the mirror. However, this effect is known to be exceedingly small, and it is not the most effective way to generate negative energy, which is required to sustain the machine’s high demands for power._

Hiro leaned in a little more, biting the inside of his lip in concentration as he glanced over a convoluted equation that held variables he had never even known existed. He’d never found a problem that he couldn’t figure out, but this one was something that he’d have to look into more into, reasoning only getting him so far without the sufficient context.

Someone had scribbled something, almost indistinguishable, off to the side on one of the papers and it took Hiro a minute to decipher it. _Experiment is able to be taken step further, as the concept of moving between different points in time in such a manner is not unlike moving between different points in space, which has been proven to be feasible._

Hiro pursed his lips, processing the information. His eyes scanned the documents once more, trying to pinpoint any information that could be of use and finding one or two parts, before moving onto the screens screwed into the wall, the bright light they were emanating causing his pupils to constrict. He brought his hand up in order to swipe at the screen, but paused, something catching his eye.

There, in the upper right corner, was a date. Today's date.

It was wrong.

All of it. The day, month, even the year. It was off, he knew. By seventeen days, two months, and four years. Exactly.

There was no need to check if the math was correct. He would forever know this one date and how much time had passed since that fateful day ever came to be. It had been painfully engraved into his mind, to never be forgotten and always sanctified.

The day he became an only child.

The day Tadashi died.

His breathing became labored, his armor seemingly squeezing the breath out of him. He couldn't move, frozen in place by burning memories.

Then, suddenly, he was sprinting to another lab station. He came crashing into the opposite wall, hands clutching at the edges of another screen and pushing him off when it displayed the same error, all the while stumbling over boxes and into stools. He jumped over a desk, papers going flying, and shoved his face up close to yet another screen, eyes going cross eyed in their effort to read the mistake.

He blinked, long and slow, taking in the date that was the same as all the others.

His mind went back to the papers and reports, to Alistair Krei’s unease before encountering Callaghan, and Callaghan’s own words before the portal swallowed him whole.

_I want a better life..._

“I-” His voice came out scratchy and he had to clear his throat loudly, twice. “I’m in the past?”

He put distance between him and the screen, eyebrows furrowing. He mumbled a few incoherent words, hands held out from his body as if to balance himself. He heard the crumpling of paper as he stepped back.

“How did I...?” His arms stretched high above his head as if reaching for something, like an answer to an impossibly transcendent question. After a while they came down to rest on his head while his eyes flickered across the room, both seeing and not. “The portal!”

Legs like jelly carried him back to the machine… or where it was supposed to be. There was nothing of the portal, only empty space.

“W-wha…?” Shoulders slumped while he reached out, hands grasping at nothing. An expression of utter confusion edged its way onto his face, coloring every line and smooth curve. “I don’t under- What?”

Did he really believe that that was what was happening? That he’d traveled through space and time? How could he not with the evidence around him? He’d seen the data, as well as the date on the computers. Technology could be tampered with (changing a date on a computer wasn’t that difficult), that was true, but that didn’t explain that lack of something he knew to exist.

The answer came to him like a wrecking ball and with it, his inner nerd breaking loose.

“Oh! It’s so obvious! I can’t believe I didn’t see it immediately!” The young genius yelled, hands making a mess of his hair while he stomped his feet, excess energy needing to be exerted. He hopped from one foot to another, excited over solving a particular puzzle. “It hasn’t been made yet! Ha! It can manipulate time, but it can’t break it!”

His excitement didn’t last long. Soon enough it dimmed into something more humbling. He stopped moving, shoulders slumping in astonishment. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he could feel his jaw going slack. “I traveled back in time.”

He slapped himself in the face.

“Ow!” He exclaimed, traitorous hand coming up to gently rub at his cheek. He shook his head, eyes opening to the same scene he left.

“I traveled back in time.” He repeated, somewhere between wonderment and confusion. “ _I_ traveled back in time… I traveled back in _time_.”

He let out a bark of hysterical laughter, turning his head as if to tell someone the incredulous news. Finding no one there, not even Baymax, he was instantly reminded of the situation, his mood deflating. He had traveled back, but he’d done it alone.

Alone. He was still alone. Alone in the past, on the day that had brought his world crashing down. Alone; without his friends, without Aunt Cass, without Baymax, without… Tadashi.

He had to fix things, he decided in that split moment, he had to make it better. He just had to. Even as he racked his mind for ideas to pull it off- his more sensible half nagging that what he was even considering was totally insane- there was no doubt he'd attempt to try and twist fate for a better future.

And there was only one way that could be done. Of course, there were rules that he had to follow, that the entire universe followed; he, like the portal, could manipulate, but not break the time continuum. But, as long as he didn't destroy the timeline, he could change it for the better.

He could save Tadashi. That itself sounded impossible, but he'd become a part-time superhero despite the skepticism he got from that- his life was crazy to begin with, so adding one more impossible thing to the list wouldn't kill him. And if his past experiences had any inclination, he wouldn't stop until he achieved his goal.

He had to- no, would save Tadashi.

It was with that resolve in mind that Hiro stepped forward, toward the door he had spied earlier, arms akimbo.

That is, until somewhere, an alarm went off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took excerpts from 'Teleportation Physics Study,' Eric W. Davis, 2004 for the lab reports.


	3. 00:00

Hiro stumbled, almost falling flat on his back.

Red tinted the entire room, giving it an evil look that made his nerves scream.

He looked around him, trying to pinpoint the cause of alarm, body tensing. Finding none but himself, Hiro did the only thing that made logical sense. He ran.

The door proved to be no problem. With his running start, shouldering it open was easy, especially when he realized it wasn't locked. He stumbled, falling onto the carpeted hallway floor in a graceless heap (it did nothing for his already aching bones).Picking himself up, clumsily slipping on his gloves for when they would prove necessary, the teenager set off running with the alarm calling in his wake.

There was no time to properly calculate where he was, so he had to trust his instinct to lead him down the right path, wherever that took him. The hallway he was taking didn’t look familiar, no doubt leading him further in the building rather than out. Alarmed men and women jumped out of his way, spilling whatever they had in surprise as he rushed by- he gave the occasional shove whenever encountering anyone going for any of the number of monitors decorating the walls, aiming to contact security.

Despite the alarm screaming through every speaker possible, Hiro could hear his blood rushing in his ears. His stomach rolled and his chest felt like it was being held in a tight grasp.

_To lower anxiety and lower heart rate, mediation is recommended. Breathing slowly and repetitively while concentrating on a mental image will also give a similar and effect result._

He almost made a retort aloud to his inner nursebot on how he couldn-

Voices and heavy footsteps sounded out as he rounded a corner, far heavier and more serious than those of frightened employees, stopping him short and jerking him back to reality. Turning tail, he went back the way he came, unable to hear the shouts and yells past the blaring ring going through his ears. Once catching a glimpse of a camera huddled in a ceiling corner, ominous in the red light, Hiro uttered a small curse, shoving his helmet back on.

Stairs. He had to get to the stairs. He had to get away from the prying eyes following him and the staircases were clear of surveillance, he knew.

Glancing behind him, he saw that there wasn't anyone on his tail, but he could still hear the sounds of people following and getting closer by the minute. He couldn’t run all day, especially after just coming out of the portal- not unless he wanted to drop from exhaustion. If ever there was a time to find somewhere to barricade himself and catch his breath, the time was now, but he had a suspicion that he wouldn’t get such a luxury so easily.

He bolted up a flight of stairs once he saw a sign directing him to the right door, practically flying, the sound of his steps echoing against the walls. With his suit’s power nonexistent, he couldn’t wirelessly hack into the buildings system and download its plan; for once, his usual routine wasn't plausible. None of his tech would be helping him anytime soon unless he found a way to boot it back up.

Another sign informed him that he had reached ground level and he all but leaped the last couple of steps. He hesitated in front of the door, peeking out through the slim glass frame. There were no big men waiting to pounce on him from the looks of it, the hallway devoid of people, filled with doors and glass walls and the general pristineness that Krei Tech bragged out.

Classic paranoia started to settle, the picture seemingly too perfect.

He quickly inched his way out into the open, feeling as on edge as a deer in headlights, his steps small and precise. Passing one or two vacant conference rooms and coming to an area filled with glass cubicles (a place where entropy would never reign supreme, elegant and organized to the speck), everything seemed cleared out.

“He’s here somewhere. Find him before he makes off with any tech.” Hiro ducked behind some desks when he heard footsteps from down the hallway he had just emerged from, watching with wide eyes and bated breath as a small squad of four security guards quickly shuffled by. One of them broke off, informing in a far softer tone than Hiro expected to the others that he was going to check the surveillance, and entered two doors to his left.

With a _hiss_ and a _click_ the door closed on the bulky man, giving a short glimpse of the machinery inside before cutting it off once more. It called to him, an answer to his troubles.

Hiro rushed after the guard as soon as the rest herded themselves in some other direction, hand reaching for the door handle, only to stop as the teenager spotted the card slot fixed into it.

He whispered a curse (he'd been doing that a lot more, GoGo being far more influential than he realized) before spinning on his heel, mind whizzing about for ideas.

The answer came to him like bulldozer.

Turning a corner, he grunted when he collided with a fast moving body, sending him and the other sprawling back. Sounds of exclamation rang out; the one coming from the person he’d ran into full of indignation, while his own sounded suspiciously like a wheeze. Only taking a moment to gather himself, shaking the dizziness that seemed insistent on coming back, Hiro looked to the man picking himself from the ground in front of him.

“Krei?”

There was no doubt about it. The man in front of him was the one and only CEO of Krei Tech, down to neatly pressed suit and tie, albeit a big younger than what Hiro remembered. Seeing him only solidified the notion of where- when he was; looking behind him, Hiro could see his secretary hurriedly attempting to help the disgruntled man up.

“What the-? You’re not an employee! Who are you? What are you doing here?” The man demanded from the floor, questions rushing out as glared at the armor-clad teen. Paper and other assortments littered the floor around them, momentarily forgotten by the older individual. Hiro, on the other hand, spotted a simple rectangular object barely a few inches from him- an escape plan bloomed in his mind, still mediocre at best, but better than nothing. “And what on earth are you wearing?”

“Sir," the secretary said, pulling the CEO farther away from Hiro, apprehensive, “he’s the one who set off the alarm- we were notified t-”

Lunging forward, having to partially crawl over the older man's legs, Hiro snatched the card, knocking the two people onto the ground once more. The woman yelped as Krei fell back, her smaller figure unable to fully support his own; they were sprawled on the floor once more.

“ _Hey!_ ” Krei yelled, his voice following Hiro as he increased the distance between them. “Get the guards here! I want that weirdo caught!”

Gloved hands fumbled as they tried to slide the blasted card, finally succeeding after three failed attempts. He barged into the room, quickly scanning it, body already shifting into a fighting stance.

His mind processed the man sitting in a lone chair, just beginning to stand in response to Hiro's sudden entrance, and screamed for action. Without warning he swiped at the man, clipping the side of his jaw. Thankfully the element of surprise and reinforced metal gloves was a great enough advantage that the punch rendered the man unconscious. Crashing, the man took the chair with him, his temple missing the machine by centimeters.

A grunt of effort escaped his mouth when he pulled at the dead weight of the man, dragging him out of the chair and out of the way.

He stumbled over to the ajar door, slamming it shut with a resounding thud, sighing as he heard the small click of the lock that accompanied it. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the door, trying to catch his breath, despite the fact that the time he had here was fleeting.

He had work to do.

Blinking through the luminescent lighting, he identified a multitude of recognizable machines, similar to the ones found at SFIT (he was confident that they'd be easy to bend to his will). He righted the chair and plopped down into it, dumping his backpack into his lap and fishing out his memory stick. In mere moments he was in and ravaging through the building’s networking.

Fingers flying, he ran through the sea of information presented to him. The building’s layout was brought forward first, easy enough to find and easier to download. _The cameras_ , a small voice whispered, _don't let anyone connect the dots_ \- for extra measure, all footage of the ground and basement level were dragged into the file he was accumulating, everything else that could've been condemning was promptly erased. It was easy enough to find things, particularly when he knew what to look for. Any file about or related to Project Sparrow, encrypted or not, was brought before him like a servant waiting on its master. Bypassing firewalls and numerous software, he connected as many networks as he could, feeling smug when it became too easy.

Tadashi had always said he could’ve been a leading activist if he’d been half as passionate in computer programming and software as he was in robotics.

His momentum and confidence were broken when someone banged loudly on the door, followed by angry shouting. He panicked and his work suffered because of it, mistakes popping up more often and needing to be fixed. His alarm increased tenfold when one of the hinges for the door broke loose with a twitch-inducing snap. He’d jerked, the computer displaying an error in his coding, setting him back further.

Then- _finally_ \- he finished. The system was compromised and Hiro was finally ready to make his move.

He bent down and lugged the main console for the system out from its place underneath the bulky desk, forcing himself to ignore the banging from behind that was becoming unbearable. Breaking off its outer casing and exposing its inner circuits, Hiro located the drive he needed. Flipping open a small niche in the armor of his right hand he pulled out a wire, yanking at it until its tension was at full capacity, and connected it to the mainframe.

Then, without a word, he reached over and tapped the ENTER key.

Sparks erupted from the console ( _nerves and muscle may be affected by electroporation through a result of a direct lightning strike, so take precaution_ ). Hiro didn't flinch, remaining silent, instead listening to the surprised yells of the people outside as the lights flickered out momentarily. He’d done this before- he knew what to do, what to expect.

No sooner had the lights returned that the sparks grew into something bigger. Thin trails of electricity crawled its way up the wire and into his suit, converting into potential chemical energy to be stored in the suit's accumulator. Skinny tendrils of the energy flickered this way and that when the amount of it became too much for the wire to properly transport, snapping at the air like a vicious dog. He could feel the heat escaping from the wire through the thickness of his suit. One of the light bulbs above him exploded, glass raining down and bouncing off his helmet; other machines flickered and some fuses blew, pouts of smoke rising up ( _smoke inhalation symptoms include: coughing, shortness of breath, irritation of nose and eyes, mental confusion…_ ).

His left hand came up to support his right, fingers curling involuntarily when he started feeling the strain. Still, he held out, knowing it would end soon enough. And true to his prediction, the flow of energy abruptly stopped.

The lights brightened like miniature suns before dimming into something not unlike the Singularity of a black hole. He could hear muffled voices of panicked employees as the building turned toward total darkness; the volume of it only increased when they realized that the backup generator wasn't coming into play as it should, already disabled by Hiro.

His helmet promptly lighted up, the display giving him the plans in the upper corner, numerous statistics popping up as they should, evaluating his suit’s status. He was pleased to see his suit charged to full capacity and operational.

Quickly, he located the nearest exit of the building and the most efficient route to take, his screen supplying a helpful 3D model of it. He jumped from foot to foot, adrenaline pumping when he saw that he had to bypass all of the men outside.

 _Not a problem_ , he thought, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, supplying the sound when it wouldn't produce itself on its own. He smirked, confidence returning with his suit's power.

Pulling the door open with a jerk, one side of it scraping the floor because of its now lopsided nature, he lunged into the mass of people stationed there. He tapped a few of them on the shoulder, emitting the lowest possible setting he could of electrical current. Most jerked back in surprise, needing a punch or kick here and there to ensure they stay out of the equation, but a few fell, bodies going into shock because of the sudden... shock. He smiled wide when he hooked his foot around someone's knee and swept their footing right out from underneath them (Gogo would've been proud he had copied her so effectively). A few of their punches connected, but his armor did its job fine enough, preventing any lasting damage to occur. He ducked under a grab at him, his suit's sensors chiming in a warning seconds before, swiveling on his heel and grabbing the hand and throwing the man it belonged too over his shoulder with the momentum of his turn.

When enough of them were down not to hinder his escape he bolted.

He ran down the hallway, skipping through offices and confused people, only coming to a halt when he saw the blessed EXIT sign that was highlighted on his screen. He pushed against it, thanking the heavens and stars above that he had remembered to unlock all the doors before he had finished with his work. It didn’t even matter that the light half-blinded him, striking at his sensitive eyes before his visor could adjust itself.

He had made it out.

In seconds his thrusters were online and, with a crouch and a leap, he was shooting up to the skyline, the blaring alarms screaming after him fading with the distance.

He spun in a circle, his wings cutting through the air with precision and ease, a bubble of laughter rising up and out of him. He angled himself towards home- towards _Tadashi_ , intent on making the day end in miracles rather than disaster.

* * *

 It was only when he had landed, in an alleyway behind some obscure shop, that he noticed his bleeding nose.

He had immediately taken off his helmet, trying hard to resist the urge to wipe at the blood, not wanting it to smudge on his gloves. Instead, pulling off a single glove, he pinched just below the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back, brown eyes staring at the clear blue sky.

 _Epistaxis, or a nosebleed, is a rupture of blood vessels within the nasal cavity_ , his mind supplied as he waited for it to stop, _and can be treated by applying direct pressure in a way that promotes clotting of the blood_.

He grimaced as he felt some of it slide down his throat, body automatically swallowing so as to not choke. (He cursed the guard who had gotten a good enough hit at him, hoping that he had at least returned the favor.) It proved necessary to breathe through his mouth, his inhales and exhales loud in his ears. The blood that had dripped down his upper lip, which had tasted a lot like copper, began to dry into a crusty layer that pinched at his skin.

When it finally stopped Hiro dropped his hands, letting the stiffness in being held up for such a long time subside. He let himself think for a moment to decide on his next actions.

The showcase.

He needed to be there. Needed to take care of things before they went beyond his control. But how?

 _Take out Callaghan_. The dark thought slithered its way into his mind, leaving a trail of even darker thoughts in its wake. _No_ , he dismissed it, shaking his head in an effort to drive those thoughts away, _Stop Callaghan from making his mistake_.

 _Prevent the fire_. A not-so-simple solution, as it concerned his prior thoughts. Callaghan had been the spark that started that life smoldering fire. But hadn't it been released by the authorities on a later date that the man had used a remote controlled explosive, to ensure his own safety?

If Hiro eliminated that variable…

Then Tadashi and everyone would be safe.

And afterward he would deal with Callaghan- no, not deal with, but save. He would save him. Save him from himself. He would make him see that revenge wasn’t the answer, and he would succeed this time. He would succeed because he had an ace up his sleeve. His knowledge of the future.

And Abigail.

Once knowing about his daughter’s vitality he would surely cease his revenge. It would bring his pain-induced madness to a screeching halt.

Bending down to pick up his helmet, he peered inside. The time programmed in it offered an unhelpful showing of 00:00. He should’ve guess as much, that traveling through time and space would wreck his internal clock.

He eyed the positioning of the sun in the sky, hiding behind the skyscrapers, calculating that it had to be, at least, five in the evening. The showcase, if he remember correctly, had started promptly at eight o’clock that night, the participants urged to arrive at least an hour before, but the public only gaining entrance half an hour later. That left him with a little less than two hours. A small window of opportunity in which he could act in.

He needed to scout out the hall- find where Callaghan hid the bomb. Getting in the hall should be simple; sneaking through a window, maybe on the second floor, would be best.

He nodded to himself before cupping his chin with his hand, fingers tapping against his skin.

What about his armor? He couldn't take it with him... could he?

The teenager reached behind him for his backpack, shifting it in reach. Unzipping it, he shuffled through his emergency supplies, silently thanking Wasabi for his insistence of preparation. He didn't have to dig very far before he felt the touch of fabric, recognizing the spare clothes Honey Lemon had herself insisted to be added to the list.

Lips pursed, Hiro estimated that he could at least fit his gloves and shoulder pads in the bag; maybe his shin guards too, if he pushed it. He would have to leave the rest of it somewhere- somewhere in close reach, just in case. Some ambiguous corner in the Exposition Hall, he decided, was his best bet. With the showcase going on in its ground level no one would be roaming around its higher levels, leaving it reasonably empty.

With that in mind Hiro slung his backpack over his shoulder once more, simultaneously gearing up. It was only moments before he was back in the sky, course set toward the showcase.

* * *

 Seeing the showcase for a second time gave him a weird sense of deja vu. The first time around he had been a nervous wreck, entirely too focused on his upcoming presentation to even think about admiring the other projects. Just like his first glimpse of the Nerd Lab he hadn’t bothered to take in all that he could, more concerned about a stupid bot fight.

Putting his microbots aside, the tech that was being presented bordered on amazing and downright unbelievable. Some piqued his interest, their applications bringing new options into his mind; just like how it had been with his friends and their own projects, he was being introduced to ideas he had hardly given the time of day, only to leave him awestruck at their potential (some of them being things he had believed to be fiction, only to be experienced through the screen of a television or the pages of a book). He lagged at a station with a transcranial pulsed ultrasound helmet, listening to the creator divulge on her theories and explanations, nodding along to a few and contemplating on others.

He started when one of the presenters tried to engage him in a conversation about black matter, leaning forward eagerly and peering at his face. He all but tripped his way out of there, muttering a rushed ' _sorrygottago_.' He pulled his hat further down, the itchy fabric rubbing against his forehead, and tightened his jacket around him when someone stepped into his path and offered a flyer. He shook his head silently, shuffling past them and losing himself in the crowd.

His legs carried him to the outskirts of the convention, where he hugged the wall and tried to melt into the shadows.

He had a job to do, he reminded himself, a mission that could not afford a possible miscalculation that a distraction provided. Even if the distractions were a few of the most interesting things he had ever encountered.

Hiro's attention shifted, eyes scanning the room. His main concern right now was Callaghan. Not once had he seen the man during exhibition, which put him all the more on edge. However, when he finally spotted the man talking to a throng of students surrounding him at the opposite end of the room, something he said eliciting a collective laugh and clapping, his nerves did not calm.

With his eyes zeroed in on the man, it was not hard to see his glances thrown toward the space just behind and below the stage, curtains expertly shielding it from curious eyes. He watched as the older man excused himself from group, all smiles and polite gestures as he made a beeline toward backstage.

Pushing himself off the wall, fists taking cover in his jacket pockets, Hiro made to follow.

He had only taken two steps before he saw a familiar blonde head bobbing above the crowd. Without prior thought he quickly sidestepped past a couple holding hands and ducked behind what looked to be a giant snow globe, ignoring the looks sent his way from the students running that station. The young man peeked his head out from his hiding place, brown eyes zeroing in on the group that was strolling past him.

It was his friends.

They were each pushing a trashcan filled to the brim with his microbots, friendly banter flowing between them with ease that came with constant interaction.

Hiro let through a small smile, head inching out more to better see them as they passed. A sense of euphoria draped over him, seeing them younger. It seemed like such a long time ago that they were relaxing about the cafe, chatting about this and that.

In the back of his mind it occurred to him that a certain person was missing, baseball cap and all.

 _Stop and focus_ , he ordered himself. Stepping out from his hiding place, he angled himself toward the stage.

"Oh, excuse me." A voice said as the body belonging to it accidentally shoved him, making him stumble. With it, a hand came out of nowhere, grip strong and offering a stable hold on him, “You okay there, bud?”

Freezing, Hiro’s entire body seized up at the familiar sound. He imagined a boa constrictor squeezing his chest, growing tighter and tighter. Suddenly, everything was on overload. Sounds slammed into him, obnoxious and deafening, while the light attacked his eyes, a headache blossoming at his temple. Yet, none of it compared to the flood of emotion swirling in him, pulsing along with his erratic heartbeat.

He dared not believe himself when he glanced up and saw the face of the one person in the world he cherished more than anything. There, with a familiar baseball cap resting on his head and concerned expression adorning his face, was Tadashi.

_Alive and breathing and right in front of him._

Hiro wanted to speak, to latch onto his brother and never let go. Wanted to just let everything go and cry like he was four again, squished in the safety of his brother's arms. He wanted to do so much, but didn't- couldn't. Couldn't because he was frozen. Frozen in a time where his brother was dead, gone in flames and ashes, and he was left alone, pitiful and brimming with anguish as he held onto a discarded hat. Gone he was from the showcase; he was burning- screaming and weeping as the building collapsed around everything he was and cared for.

Flames licked at him in the back of his mind, yet he remained chilled to the bone. It ate at his strength, leaving him boneless. His body went numb, but he somehow managed a jerky nod.

And as he looked on at his dead brother, cataloging every feature with what little was left of his mind, his stomach lurched and rolled. He swayed while watching Tadashi continue on after a nod and smile, feeling the blood draining from his head. Then realization hit him with a ton of bricks.

There was no way he could have an episode in the middle of the exhibition. If he fainted or drew any attention, everything would turn to hell. He needed to get somewhere away.

Forcing air down his throat, he ordered his legs to take him to the nearest corridor. By the third attempt he got them to stumble forward, going in a wide circle around the carefree group of friends joking around. Thankfully, his episode wasn’t so open that anyone noticed, too focused on the machinery and the upcoming presentations. Reaching a flight of steps, he slumped down, his head pressed between his knees.

He needed to relax and get through this. Now was not the time for him to lose it.

Breathe, in and out, and repeat. Repeat until his heart wasn’t going to burst from his chest.

He’d gone through this before, he could go through it once more.

“Excuse me... young man? Are you feeling alright?”

It was only thanks to his predicament that Hiro didn’t jerk his head up, surprised at the unexpected arrival of the man. Everything would’ve been lost, his cover being one of them. The tone of concern was clear, so sincere it hurt. Footstep told him that the man was getting closer.

He couldn’t have that.

“It’ll pass.” He wheezed, squeezing his eyes, mumbling something, his fingers digging into his knees, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I would gladly call the nurse that’s on standby. By the looks of it, you're having a sev-”

“I’m fine.” His voice hardened, adamant that the man leave right then and there. Hiro couldn’t help himself, he became vindictive and terse, “I’ll be _fine_.”

Without looking up, he felt the eyes continue to stare, silence only broken by his hitched breathing. His neck prickled, screaming for a scratch. Then, with a few hesitant steps forward and a sigh, Callaghan returned to the main hall.

A hand came up to push at his chest, trying to knead out the pain. His heart throbbed, screaming for salvation, but only receiving more injury.

Baymax, he needed Baymax.

"Ow." Came the small whimper, only, it wasn't followed by the usual sound of vinyl being inflated. His own personal healthcare companion wasn’t there, but, rather, another copy of it was somewhere backstage, dormant and unaware of his pain, waiting to be presented.

 _Panic attacks, also known as anxiety attacks, are periods of intense fear or apprehension of sudden onset triggered by physical and/or emotional stimuli, accompanied by at least four or more bodily or cognitive symptoms: heart palpitations, dizziness, shortness of breath, or feelings of unreality_. His inner Baymax quoted, mind trying to fill the void the robot’s absence made. _Hyperventilation, a common symptom, can be successfully suppressed with certain breathing techniques_.

Hiro nodded with fervor, letting the imaginary voice of Baymax calm him.

 _A 5-2-5 breath count has been proved most efficient. Using the stomach, inhale for five counts, while exhaling for two_.

Listening to and following those simple instructions Hiro felt himself start to relax. His heart stopped beating like a jackhammer, ache in his chest dwindling into a dull throb.

It took a few minutes longer until he could lift up his head, even more so to stop his shaking. When he finally had the strength to clamber to his feet, body moaning and groaning in response, he regained awareness of his surroundings once more. He noticed people starting to converge toward the center stage, the show finally beginning.

He’d wasted his valuable time, no chance to get to the bomb before the presentations. His options were limited because of his stupid episode.

 _Stupid, useless, worthless_...

He shuffled over, feeling vulnerable, keeping away from where Tada- his family and friends were...

Pulling his hat lower, Hiro eyed the people around him. None were paying him any heed; all eyes were slowly being drawn to the skinny kid that edged onto the stage, voice cracking as the boy tried to present his invention. Even Callaghan was there, front and center.

There was something strange about seeing his younger self in the flesh. Sure, he had seen the papers and Krei Tech and even Krei himself, but that was nothing in comparison. Tadashi had been dead and gone for years, leaving a hole in his chest, but seeing himself... _he_ was _there_ , same unruly hair and gapped tooth smile, completely unaware of the world. Innocent to all its grief and misfortune. If he didn’t know any better, Hiro might have assumed someone (probably his idiotic self) had cloned him. 

The photos he had flipped through with Aunt Cass on multiple occasions had never showed how truly scrawny he had been, especially when compared to his much older peers. It was all the more noticeable as Hiro stood there, watching his younger self rambling and stumbling through the presentation.

Had he really been that awkward?

Hiro caught a few people smiling, even a couple of small laughs here and there, but mainly the audience held bored and indifferent expressions. Frowning, he looked back to the stage, only to cringe as the sound emitting from the microphone made his ears ring.

A few people backed away, rubbing their ears.

Yes. Yes, he had been that awkward.

He almost felt sorry for the kid. The feeling in his stomach, so clear and unwanted, made Hiro want to leave. Secondhand embarrassment, his mind identified, slowly draining away the lingering effect of the anxiety, leaving only empathy in its wake. Empathy and a slight tinge of pity. It was hard, especially at that young age, to overcome such jitters. He’d never been, still isn’t, good with crowds- or people for that matter. Give him a circuit board over human interaction any day.

 _Breathe_ , he mouthed to himself, only able to watch on. He saw his younger self falter, eyes seeking support; Hiro could see the exact moment when the fourteen year old found his brother, securing the resolve to continue one with a single encouraging look.

When the presentation got through its rocky start, the boy on the stage becoming for confident, Hiro smiled. He’d never been a social butterfly, but once his head and heart weren’t going into overdrive Hiro knew things would get better.

Unlike the other people in the hall, who let out numerous exclamations at the black masses rushing past their feet, Hiro wasn’t fazed. His younger self went on, gaining more of the crowd, his microbots finally being realized for the amazing tech they were, and soon Hiro was being squished by all the people coming forward. He struggled to remain upright and away from the stage, pushing uselessly against the overwhelming force of an intrigued audience.

At least his struggling made sure there was decent space between him and his family, him having no desire in running into them again.

Though, even amidst his annoyance, he couldn’t deny that here was something invigorating about seeing the good his microbots could do, watching as his younger self listed off all the possibilities and wonders his work could do. Even with everything that had happened, he felt proud.

The applause following the presentation was deafening from his position, stunning him. Hiro looked around, taking in all the amazed expressions, watching a few talk to one another excitedly, wishing he could’ve saw more of this. It would have, he knew without a doubt, helped him feel better when the microbots were stolen and degraded to nothing but an evil means of inflicting harm upon others.

His breathlessness was gone the moment he saw Krei and Callaghan approach his younger self; Hiro immediately came closer, doing his best to stay hidden while still in range of hearing. When observing the older men’s interaction this time around, aware of the history between the two, the tension crackling between them was clear enough. He wondered how he’d never seen it before or made an inference as to why. It would’ve saved so much time, and so many lives.

Then Krei left and a letter was handed to his younger self, followed by a few words by Callaghan. He made toward the group, struggling as he was going against the flow of the crowd.

A majority of the people were mingling about the stage, hoping for a glimpse at other projects. Hiro craned his neck, trying to spot Callaghan, but failing miserably; the man was probably already with the bomb, barely minutes before it went off. Fuming, he restrained himself from stomping his foot in frustration, mind already whizzing about and deciding on a course of action. Moving against the current, barely able to slip through the spaces people provided, he broke free and headed toward the door leading to the upper levels of the hall, where his suit lay waiting.

It was going to happen soon, the explosion.

And he needed to be ready.

* * *

 

The moment he entered the main hall for a second time that night, it was to a completely different setting. Gone was the eager crowds strolling through aisles of undiscovered potential, in their place panicked masses running about like ants trying to evade a shoe. Flames licked at everything, threatening to devour anything daring to pause long enough in its path. Smoke hovered around, growing ever denser, pressing down on Hiro with animosity.

The heat was almost unbearable. Hot air rushed at him, enough to push anyone back and deter further advancement. But Hiro pushed forward, suit providing protection most did not have. It was sweltering, the feeling of being cooked alive, but he strengthened his resolve.

Not spotting Tadashi within the midst of the frantic people, Hiro began to usher people out. He picked up those who tripped, handed the injured ones to others to help out, and did all he could to get everyone to safety. No one had the time to question why and how an armored individual had seemingly popped into existence, only caring that the said individual was helping.

Hiro tried not to stare too long at the burning figures lying motionless on the ground, most too far gone to be saved.

One of the showcases burst, emitting sparks that rained down on screaming people. Hiro pulled someone out of harm’s way of a falling platform, urging them and a few stragglers toward the exit. His helmet magnified his orders of haste so that it could be heard over the roaring of the fire. He all but threw a familiar looking woman out the door and down the stairs, ignoring her screams and concerns of his own safety.

Soon he was the only one left within the hall.

Him and the professor.

Wasting no time, Hiro ran toward the corner of the hall holding his microbots. His helmet warned him of a falling invention, its metal frame hissing as it landed inches before him with a crash. He maneuvered around it, crying out when he wasn’t fast enough to dodge a falling rod, it hitting his shoulder with a sharp _twang_. It wasn’t horribly bad, most likely leaving a nasty bruise- he’d live.

Finally, he lumbered into the section of the room where he knew Callaghan to be, spotting the figure’s back.

Hiro called out, desperate and unsure what to do, almost as if he was fourteen again.

Callaghan turned.

Surprise didn’t cover it when the man spotted him with his suit; Hiro liked to admit that he looked a little more than just awesome, thankfully gaining some height with age. He certainly stood out in the chaotic hall.

Past the surprise, Hiro could make out the beginning of the cold demeanor that the man had displayed on Akuma Island. He could see the Yokai beginning to rise up, out for revenge and uncaring who stood in his way.

“Callaghan!”

Hardened eyes trailed over his form, upper lip curling. “Who-”

“Someone who knows this isn’t what you want!” He yelled, arm cutting through the air in emphasis. Another wave of deja vu washes over him as he steps forward almost cautiously in the direction of his unstable teacher. “I know that you started this fire, that you started it to steal that tech, and that it’s for your daughter- I know everything.”

The man looked confused, quickly shifting to outrage.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you know _nothing_.” The man spit out, voice almost lost to the flames surrounding them, the lines of his face deepening and making it look that much harsher. From behind his back, he pulled out Hiro’s transmitter. “Nothing!”

“Don-” Hiro started, hand reaching out uselessly. He momentarily contemplated the idea of blasting him with an electric charge, only to dismiss it as a careless and ineffective idea. He watched helplessly as Callaghan placed the band atop his head. The microbots near the two started to shake, fueled by the man’s anger.

“ _Professor Callaghan!_ ”

The shout jolted them out of their staring contest, surprise flitting on both their faces. Hiro started, face blanching when he truly realized what he was hearing- who he was hearing. He turned, uncaring of the dark mass of microbots that was slowly rising above them all, eyes only for the hunched figure making its way toward them. His breath caught in his throat, choking him where the smoke failed to.

“Ta...”

By the whim of the professor, the microbots slammed into a metal pillar, effectively bending it. There was a groan, the metal shuddering before it gave out. Hiro, eyes wide, looked up to find the beams above him shaking along with the pillar, the weight of the building slowly becoming too much for their support. Parts of metal fell down- rods as big as his forearm, red hot and jagged; Hiro jumped back, increasing the space between him and the man before him (but that didn’t matter anymore).

“Tada… shi” He wheezed. He was almost impaled by a cherry-red rod, but too busy searching for the familiar cardigan through the haze of the flames and the waves of heat to care.

The sound of clicking forced his attention back onto Callaghan, the man summoning a number of his microbots and creating a dome-like shield as he hurriedly made his way out of the hall. Another sound came from the floor, Hiro’s eyes catching the small shape near the professor, wires sparking and the rubber layer melting because of the heat- _the bomb_.

Hiro looked between the bomb and his brother, who was coming ever closer, unsure which course of action he should take. Another groan from above told him he was out of time, more than just small parts of the roof about to come raining down. In an instant, he made his decision; he lunged toward his brother.

“Tadashi!”

And then the bomb went off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. As you can see, it's a pretty long chapter (twice the length of the other two!); it took quite some time to get everything we wanted in there. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! And remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	4. Hello, I am...

The detonation was rattling, so forceful that it shook the building’s entire framework and the unfortunate souls still inside (all two of them).

The hall had finally had enough, its structure unable to hold itself together any longer. It moaned and groaned like a dying man falling to his knees, finally admitting defeat and surrendering to the all-consuming flames. Fire burst forth, rolling in continuous waves, feeding off anything it could get to and spitting out ash when it was satisfied. Metal hit metal with large clangs, melting into one another when the heat became unbearable.

For a split second, all Hiro could hear was the whoosh of the blast, eardrums deaf to everything else. The hot air seemed to sizzle, snapping with the precision of an assembly line, but with none of the predictability. The explosion flared and hit Hiro straight on, increasing his speed far more than he’d wanted; he tumbled forward, the ground leaving him as he was blown away. His arms flailed, pinwheeling, as he reached out for his brother.

The stunned face of Tadashi was clear despite the smoke, eyes wide and red-brimmed, arms lowering from his face as he took in what was happening just a precious second too late.

Hiro slammed into his brother’s body, just able to hear the other's surprised grunt, desperately trying to cover his body with his own armored one, which was by far more resistant and durable than skin. They crashed and tumbled onto the dirtied ground in a tangled mess, barely evading the falling beam that landed where Tadashi had previously been standing. The steel beam was soon accompanied by others similar to it, warped and jagged and huge.

Hiro's helmet's screen momentarily flickered when a particularly large piece of plaster pelted his head, crumbling on contact. It powdered onto his brother's hair and face, but Hiro couldn’t see much more than that when, suddenly, he found them both buried underneath a substantial amount of rubble. His arms and knees shook as they struggled to keep him up, his body starting to bend under the pressure of being used as a human shield. Yet, he didn't falter at the sound of his armor giving way, letting out an alarming, splintering noise. Nor did he falter when the heat became almost unbearable, his suit seeming to melt onto his back.

With a flash his helmet’s night vision turned on, bathing everything in a greenish light. Besides the fact that Tadashi's grimacing face was far more concerning in the new light, Hiro was thankful he could see past the thick smoke and cave of metal they were caged in. Large pieces of concrete had landed dangerously close, large and small cracks puncturing them in a web-like design. Even through the blistering heat Hiro felt a wash of cool relief pass over him- they were both generally unscathed-

There was a resounding _crack!_ and the whole structure seemed to shift, the beams screaming when they erratically bent, a cacophony of screeching as everything pressed inward.

Something inside him shattered when he heard the scream, excruciating pain in every chord that erupted from his brother's mouth. The blood drained from Hiro's face when he looked down, only to be greeted with the sight of his brother's arm pinned down by one of the ceiling panels, the heated metal digging into his flesh. The corner of the thing had sliced at his brother's ribs, the ripped clothing allowing a good view of the wound; blood oozed out of it, soaking into his clothes.

Hiro cried out, fingers curling when Tadashi's scream turns into loud panting and his eyes started rolling back as he listlessly attempted to yank the metal out but found no coverage. Hiro shifted, allowing his left hand to move and jerk the villainous metal away from his brother (despite the pain he knew he was giving him, Hiro pressed down on the wound in a weak attempt to stop the bleeding). Teeth grinded together when the rubble shifted along with him and something pushed down at his ankle, twisting it uncomfortably.

The green lighting started to make him nauseous- in that moment he decided that the red glare of the fire, as violent as it may have been, was the lesser of two evils.

When the roaring and hissing of the flames became slightly muted, Hiro reluctantly eased his hold on Tadashi, hands soaked red. It took less than a moment to realize his brother had stopped moving and responding to any kind of stimuli, pain or otherwise. Hiro felt his heart stop for the second time that day, fearing for the worst. But no, a frantic body check and scan of his helmet showed that Tadashi's heart was still beating erratically.

His brother was unconscious- unconscious and hurt, but alive and breathing.

“It’s okay Tadashi, y-you'll be okay- I’ll... I'll get you out of here.”

He swiveled his head and attempted to look around, screen displaying exactly how much rubble was currently resting on top of them (two hundred and forty- seven pounds). Letting out a yell of effort, he- somehow- raised his body up higher. The wreckage fell on either side of him (with Tadashi safely tucked underneath him, no chance of being impaled), millions of shattered pieces of glass crunching underneath him with every movement.

_Hysterical strength, or superhuman strength, is a display of extreme strength by humans, beyond what is primarily believed to be normal, usually occurring when people are experiencing high levels of fear, anxiety and/or emotions related to. It is believed to come from spikes in the body's level of adrenaline, as such in life or death situations, though evidence is difficult to acquire with incidents being rare and unrepeatable._

Slowly, the weight on Hiro's back lessened as he dealt with the building's fallen materials. He eyed the larger beams settled above him, stopping each other from clattering onto the ground and creating a tent-like structure. Taking care not to create a landslide made up of concrete, plaster, brick, and glass, he was able to clear enough space to work with.

He crawled forward, dragging Tadashi's body out every couple of feet. He had to stop more than once when sounds erupted from above, freezing him on the spot, fearing for the worst. His breath was heavy and his back screamed for him to stop by the time he emerged from the rubble, charred remains of the hall there to greet him.

Vaguely he wondered if the fire department had arrived yet and were working on extinguishing the flames- it would've certainly been very helpful and made this all a bit easier.

He tried to think back to the day GoGo had shown everyone how to properly carry an injured civilian and cursed when he couldn’t, pulling his brother into a somewhat standing position. Even if he could remember, his brother was far too big for him to carry anyhow- Hiro may have grown, but Tadashi was still thicker in body and broader in shoulder. Grabbing his wrist, Hiro tucked his head under Tadashi’s arm and settled most of the other's weight on his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his brother's waist for extra measure. He was careful to avoid the wounds.

“Jeez Tadashi,” Hiro grunted, stumbling forward and away from the flaming remembrants of the exhibit case next to them, "lay off the wings." Despite his attempt at humor, his nerves were still high strung and the situation still dire.

He searched for an exit in the maze of metal and smouldering tech, his helmet software scanning and listing him the possibilities. Most of the options were out of the question, as there was no way Hiro could get Tadashi through any of the openings without sustaining more injury or giving out from the strain himself.

Debris littered the entirety of the floor. Smoke rose in plumes, twirling and dancing about, thick and suffocating. Tadashi's head lolled onto Hiro's shoulder, tinged red and sweaty under smudged soot. Unlike Hiro, he had no armor to lessen the heat and was soon to be suffering from smoke inhalation (if how raspy his breathing had become was anything to judge by). He wouldn't last forever in this inferno.

One desperate look at what had been the entrance of the hall told Hiro there would be no using it as an exit. _But_ , his brain supplied, _what about the windows_.

The windows, he saw, had been blown out with the initial blast, smoke crawling up and out of them. Without missing a beat he made his way to the nearest one, the sound of Tadashi's feet dragging on the floor loud in his ears.

Quickly, he leaned forward to take a look out the window, finding that it wasn’t unreasonably high (building an institute on rolling hills was definitely questionable). Broken glass and hard concrete smiled up at him, making him hesitate, unsure if he wanted to risk Tadashi breaking a bone. It wasn’t too large of a fall, but it wasn’t a small hop either.

A flare rose up behind them, spitting embers, scaring Hiro into action.

Shifting so that his brother's large frame was draped over his back, hands clasped in one of Hiro's, he braced a foot on the windowsill, heaving them up until they were balancing precariously on its edge. He turned to take one last look at the burning hall before sucking in a large breath, steeling his resolve, and jumped.

Wind whizzed past him as he fell, almost ripping Tadashi out of his hold. His thrusters sputtered momentarily halfway through the fall; even as they cut the falling height in half, Hiro was tipped forward as his balanced was ruined. He twisted midair, turning so that he hugged his brother protectively while his back faced the ever increasing ground, taking the brute of the force when he hit it. The air escaped him when his head whiplashed, banging against the unforgiving concrete as they rolled out the rest of their momentum. White spots danced across his vision as he layed there, Tadashi's dead weight pressing down uncomfortably on his chest.

His suit's regulator informed him of the change in temperature, drastic as it was; the outside world a cool relief from the hellfire inside. His brain screamed to take off his helmet and gulp down as much air as he possibly could, while his body begged for a rest. He overruled both ideas, unable to relax, not yet.

Tadashi's slumped weight and burnt form was an insistent reminder that he had a job to finish.

The glaring lights of the ambulances and firetrucks pierced at his retinas, but were a hopeful beacon. People, medical professionals and civilians alike, littered about; a few survivors huddled at the rears of ambulances and firetrucks, soot-covered and supporting thick blankets. Pairs of firefighters handled multiple firehoses and attempted to take care of the flames that were reaching for the smoke-filled sky. Police lingered around everyone, discussing with firefighters, practitioners, survivors, and stragglers.

It's wasn't long until the pair was noticed as Hiro carried Tadashi to the nearest medical help. A call was made out to others and soon a small group of people were running to the two, a gurney in tow. One or two policemen were following not far behind, much to Hiro's distaste.

Hiro stepped back, almost not allowing a man to relieve his brother's weight from him when he reached for it, protective streak rearing up its anxious head. It took everything in him to release his stiff hold on his brother and not chase after him when he was urgently carried away. He shook his head at someone's inquiry to his own health, adamant that they help his brother first and foremost. He slowly retreated when the focus on him dwindled. And when a police officer raised his voice to call out for him to halt Hiro turned and bolted, ignoring his burning muscles screaming in protest.

He didn’t turn back, tiredly bringing his thrusters online again and flying off. Not even when he heard his own voice, younger and higher with fear, screaming his brother's name.

* * *

The next thing Hiro knew he was waking up on the roof of a building, not to the sound of crackling fire, but rustling feathers. Groggy and unsteady, he eased himself into a sitting position. Eyes, crusted and sore, were blinded as they peeled open to the bright rays of sunlight. Why it had to come out every morning, he didn’t know. He certainly didn't want it shining down on him at that moment.

Pigeons cooed and waddled about, unconcerned as they went about their bird business.

“Ugh” His nose crinkled. The waft of bird droppings reached his nose, driving the last bout of drowsiness from his mind. Not only that, but it worsened the headache that was forming- an incessant pounding behind his eyes.

His body ached, the pain and ordeal it went through finally coming back to spite him. Every movement made him wince and cringe, his bones creaking, muscles aching, and head spinning. The back of his throat was burning, his voice cracking horrendously, desperately in need of some water. Even his stomach was in on the internal message with its wracking pains, cramping up when he tried to stand. And to top it all off, the heat was attacking him in waves, his skin tingling and sweating uncomfortably.

It was then that his mind finally caught up with the time and the place.

Tadashi. The fire. Callaghan.

He jerked up, only to make it halfway before his back protested and he slumped back down with a hiss. That was fine, he was more than happy to let himself momentarily become a ragdoll; it gave his body time to recuperate and he was going to utilize every second of it, even if the position he was in was slightly uncomfortable and was on its way to give him a crick in the neck.

He needed to think, not move.

Slowly the accounts of last night rushed forward, like a dam breaking within his mind. He had done it. He'd saved his brother, prevented his death. Done the impossible- changed the past and made a new future.

A mixture of joy and relief swelled up in his chest, briefly overpowering the pain his body was feeling. The corners of his lips inched upward, hesitant at first. With that good feeling curling inside, Hiro found he didn’t mind the sun all that much anymore. It seemed surprisingly fitting how brightly it shined almost as if it too was celebrating the perseverance of a life.

But he hadn’t stopped Callaghan, the cloudstorm of a thought snuck its way into his mind, suppressing the sun and its bright rays from his sight, reminding him of his failure. The man, still in his revenge filled mindset, was out and about. Now, everything was different- yet not at the same time. He had to make sure that it all didn't fall apart.

First things first, he had to see if Tadashi was all right.

He could already hear the inner nagging of his Baymax, calmly, yet insistently, telling him to deal with his own health, which should have been his top priority. But he couldn't just sit here and wonder, unknowing of his brother's fate. No. He

had to check. Tadashi hadn't burned, but that didn't mean he was perfectly fine. Paranoia was starting to seep in, making Hiro doubt.

What if he'd saved his brother from the fire only to lose him from smoke inhalation- high-end burns- blood loss-

 _No_ , he chided himself, stopping the bad thoughts right in their tracks, _don't think about that. He's fine. Worry about yourself. You can't help him if you're dead_.

He had to worry about himself.

Hiro clenched his teeth, biting back another hiss as he brought his body to a sitting position. At some point during the night he had taken off his helmet and a good part of his armor, the pieces splayed about him. His shoulders hunched unhappily, twitching painfully when particular muscles protested, as he saw that a few of them were now sporting white spots; he glared at the birds still tottering about so fiercely that it was a wonder the animals weren’t reduced to ash themselves.

Dirt and ash covered him from head to toe, his attitude worsing with the continued discovery of filth on his person. No matter what was going to happen, he promised himself he would take a nice, long bath when it was all over. And while he dreamed about running water and indoor plumbing, which only made him feel grosser the longer he stayed in his current state, he took in his surroundings.

The open sky, an early morning blue, stretched out before him. Pigeons were perched on small polls and antennas at eye-level, their cooing drowned out by the sound of a high powered fan. An electric pole stood erect to his left, the wires it held up to close for comfort, bringing attention to his elevation and what it meant.

One thing was clear- he was on a roof.

No wonder the heat was so aggravating, the sun was practically glaring down on him . He flipped himself over, almost stopping when the pain disoriented him for a moment, crawling on his stomach to the edge of the building (why was he so close to the edge, anyway?). Looking down he found that he recognized the large parking structure to his left and pharmacy to his right and could easily determine his current location.

San Fransokyo Aiiku Center.

It was a familiar place; he’d been there on more than one occasion, as genius wasn’t one to be daunted by the prospect of injury, especially when said genius was an eager, eight year-old boy with a knack for trouble. He even knew a few of the receptionists and nurses by name (all of whom opted to carry around sweets with them at all times after meeting him), something Tadashi had always insisted wasn’t a proud thing to brag about. (Tadashi himself had only ever been the cause of a visit once: a broken wrist from their makeshift-hovercraft ride throughout the city, which had led to a frantic Aunt Cass rushing him to the hospital, all the while ranting how she was going to be obese and grey-haired by the time she was thirty.) Nonetheless, Hiro had been pleased- it had meant more candy for him.

He shook his head, jumping out of his memories and back into the present.

Maybe he could hack into the hospitals system and find Tadashi's file... that sounded like a better idea the longer he mulled over it. But, no, he couldn’t do that. With so many patients and the hospitals dependency on electronics, any kind of hack could prove disastrous.

Maybe he could go in seeking medical help and see Tadashi along the way...

He had been putting off the necessary medical attention long enough. If he didn't get it now, he'd need of a coffin rather than just some medication and sterile bandages.

But going into the hospital he was currently atop of was out of the question too. There was no way he'd get out of it once he entered. With the fire and his brother already in its care, not to mention the fact that the hospital carried all their family’s records, going in unnoticed would be near impossible. His younger self was most likely still hanging about too (he wouldn’t leave Tadashi’s side, even if an earthquake destroyed the building). It was almost certain he'd be recognized. No doubt the people who'd seen him during the showcase would recognize him (as well as the staff) and immediately connect the dots. Once they delved in deeper it wouldn't be too hard to find out who he was and exactly where- when he came from; questions would be asked and he'd have to answer them. That would lead to complications, pushing him back in his mission to find Callaghan. He didn't have time for complications.

A part of him wanted to risk entering anyway, just to see Tadashi. Seeing him alive and not in an inferno would certainly settle his worry. Again, he pushed the urge back.

If he couldn’t go to a hospital... then what?

The answer came to him easily, so apparent it was embarrassing. He didn’t need an entire hospital, just a doctor or nurse. Someone who could take care of him and his health until he was satisfied with his care.

Hiro smiled, genuine through the pain.

It was time to visit an old friend.

* * *

 

The campus was closed, abandoned of all life, giving it a haunted look, despite the time of day and its sunny disposition. The usual wandering students and faculty were absent, as if the fire had driven them away even after the threat was extinguished. It was no longer the safe place that many had believed it to be.

There was no trouble with getting onto campus, no one to stop him as he made his way to the modern building. Off in the distance, Hiro spotted the remains of the hall, a large dirt spot on the once immaculate grounds, boarded with bright tape and signs. He paused in his walk and took time in observing it; what had once been a sight that brought on the recollection of bad memories was now a show of his success. A building could be replaced, a life could not.

He forced himself to turn away and limped to the labs. Stopping at the base of the stairs, he prepared himself, fiddling with his handheld. It was a small and sleek EMP device, something he’d built during a past mission concerning robbers locking themselves and hostages in a high-end bank. Since then, seeing how well his little piece of tech had worked, he’d made sure to have one on him at all times, adding upgrades to it whenever possible. It hadn’t take long for him to figure out how to isolate its effect, disrupting specified electronics rather than a general range (he couldn’t have Baymax fritzing in the middle of a mission).

His tech beeped when it had done its work, shutting down the security, alarms and anything connected to that network. The lights dimmed until he was surrounded by total darkness and with an almost somber beep the doors unlocked.

Entering, he was blasted with a feeling of euphoria. Everything was exactly how he remembered it, but... not at the same time.

He could see Wasabi’s shelves where he kept all his tools, impeccable in the way where everything had a place and everything was in its place. To its left was Honey Lemon’s station, where countless flasks and Bunsen burners sat, ready for experimentation and new discovery in the name of everything that was science and pink. And just beyond that was where Gogo usually made her lodging, its most prominent feature a trashcan filled to the brim with trials that hadn’t satisfied the girl- that just weren’t good enough. Even Fred’s armchair, settled in the middle of it all, with its patched up sides and smelly odor, was there.

But, there were things that he didn’t recognize. New projects and calculations were littered about. Random jackets were looked to have been hurriedly stuffed in crevices and drawers. Doodles that could've only belonged to Fred were stapled along the walls, depicting scene after scene of a certain group of friends (Hiro snorted when he saw the giant monsters attacking the city in the background in a few of them). And a half full swear jar was settled on a lone desk in the corner (exactly like the one in the Lucky Cat Café).

He walked toward his- Tadashi’s lab, the way familiar and reassuring. Though he pause at the door, staring at the handle, unsure on whether to continue. He wanted to see his robot (best) friend, but he was all too aware of how it wouldn't truly be his Baymax. Did he want to go through with seeing his friend, only to be not completely recognized in return? Did he want to go through with that pain?

No, he didn’t want that pain. But, he decided, Baymax was worth it (and always would be). And, plus, this was Baymax he was talking about. Any pain could undoubtedly be treated, emotional or physical. It didn't matter what changed, it was still Baymax.

Despite the nonexistent chance of getting caught, Hiro entered the personal lab as quietly as he could. He spotted the object of his visit, the excitement he didn't know he had threatening to burst, quickly shuffling over to Baymax's charging station and pulling it out further into the open.

He stepped back, deja vu peaking it's head again.

“Ow.”

With its usual chime, the container expanded and opened, a familiar white form unfolding from it. Hiro couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face as he watched the robot fully inflate, waving in the standard Baymax fashion.

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare assistant. I was alerted by a sound of distress. What seems to be the trouble?” The standard dialogue, encoded in the chip, sounded rather fake in comparison to _his_ Baymax’s speech, but it nonetheless had him subconsciously relaxing.

Hiro waited for the 'Hello Hiro' that usually followed, only to realize a second or two later that the robot had no inclination nor prior knowledge to do so- he tried not to let his disappointment show. Instead, Hiro lifted his arms as if displaying himself, wincing as his arms felt that they would break off before they could be lifted halfway, “Take a guess, Baymax.”

“There is no need to guess, as I am equipped with scanners for top efficiency in diagnosis.” The nursebot said in his natural deadpan manner. "I will scan you now."

There was a pause. Hiro frowned. Baymax's scan should be instantaneous, his diagnosis even more so. "Baymax, what's wr-"

"Scan complete. You have major abrasions along both arms, shoulders, lower abdomen, and left leg. Evidence of deep muscle bruising is prominent in those areas as well. You also have a sprained right ankle and extensive lacerations along your body." The robot's screen flickered to life, diagramming his words. "Your body is also experiencing major fatigue, though showing high levels of serotonin. Rest and a healthy diet is recommended.”

Hiro nodded along with the robots medical observations, ready for receive whatever help he was given, only for Baymax to continue on.

“My sensors also indicate that you are my previous patient: Hamada, Hiro. However, the information I have currently catalogued in my database disagrees with that statement.” Shutter eyes blinked and his head tilted infinitesimally, as if confused. “There must be an error in my coding.”

The teen hurriedly took off his helmet, showing his face, “No, Baymax, there isn’t-”

“Commencing scan of interior workings.” The robot interrupted, straightening to his full height and staring over the teen’s head. Hiro sighed and scratched at the back of his neck, directing a fond smile in the robot’s direction. “Scan complete. No error or miscalculation of the kind was detected in my coding. Conclusion: All current information collected on the patient known as Hiro Hamada is correct.”

Hiro fiddled with the helmet in his hands and chuckled, “Well, I could have told you that.” When all the robot did was stare blankly at him, he sighed, “Look, I don’t know how to explain this but… I’m not the same Hiro you met before- well, I am, but not-”

“You and the Hiro of my previous scans differ in age of approximately four years-"

"That's what I'm trying to s-"

"-approximately eighteen centimeters in height-"

"I know, but list-"

"-twenty kilograms in-”

"Yes, Baymax, but you ha-"

"-and undergone puberty-"

"-I can explain- wait, what?"

"-includes urges and-"

"Okay, no, please stop." He stepped forward, hands stretched out to shush the robot, not wanting to go through this talk a second time, “Now's not the time for the stupid metaphors-”

"-finally blossoming into manhood-"

"I'm from the future!" Hiro all but yelled, halting the other's embarrassing dialogue, covering his mouth immediately when he realized how loud he'd been. Eyes flickered around, as if half expecting someone to jump out of the shadows and attack him. Cautiously, he took his hand away from his mouth, looking to Baymax for a response.

The nursebot remained as expressionless as ever, blinking, before... "Data catalogued."

"What? That's it?" Hiro was a bit disappointed, expecting more, "You aren't going to question it? Ask me why? How?"

"Would it better your health for me to ask questions concerning your predicament?"

"Well, no, not really." He responded, scuffing a boot on the carpeted ground before he limped around the robot to a stool, "It's a pretty sick story though."

Baymax’s head rotated to keep the teen in sight, "I do not understand. A story cannot be sick. It is a narrative or an account of incidents and does not possess a body that can be harmed or an immune system that can be bypassed by potential pathogens."

"No, buddy, it's just an expression. Remember?" Hiro muttered offhandedly, tugging off a boot. Baymax watched him struggle in taking off the remaining armor before tottering back to his case and pulling out a small spritz bottle.

"I will make note of it." As Hiro changed out of his suit, the robot attempted to tend to his wounds. Hiro didn’t mind, it already being a routine thing for him- Baymax looking at whatever injury he had sustained during the course of the day while he worked, having hold of any appendage of his not being used at the moment. The only problem was that it was twice as hard to do his work one-handed, but he dealt with it for the time being.

Once he’d changed, he turned and settled down so that Baymax could tend to his back, where most of his pain was centered. He barely listened the robot's informative statement on what specific type of spray was being used for his wounds, only caring about the wave of relief it gave him, numbing his burning pain.

He watched Baymax waddle back to his container, returning with a medical kit. Despite his slowness in terms of mobility, when dealing with his patients the robot’s large hands were quick and precise. It wasn’t long until Hiro’s arms and back were covered, dressing and bandaging applied correctly and snugly. When the robot focused on his ankle, Hiro flinched at his touch and bit back a curse. But Baymax was gentle as he lifted the leg and settled it on a second stool, unperturbed when Hiro nearly fell of his perch and had to steady himself with both hands. A bind of some sort appeared in the robot’s hand, which was pulled snugly over the sprain, a thin ice pack squeezed between fabric and skin.

When all was said and done Hiro happily accepted the lollipop Baymax presented him, popping it in his mouth without further ado. It was cherry flavor, his favorite.

“What’s that?” Hiro asked, voice muffled by the treat, as Baymax presented a clear bottle with prominent colored pills inside.

“Ibuprofen. A nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug used for relieving pain and reducing inflammation-” Hiro bit into his lollipop, interrupting the robot with a crack- Baymax continued on, undeterred, “I advise you to take four hundred milligrams every four hours and have an advisor on hand for the later days of your recovery in case symptoms should arise. ”

"Well, you'll be there, so that's covered." Hiro said, pocketing the bottle.

Just as he was going to say more, Hiro’s stomach growled loudly. He was reminded that besides the candy he had but finished, he hadn’t eaten in however long...

"A stomach rumble and peristalsis indicates hunger. You are currently lacking in the necessary intake of sugars, proteins, and carbohydrates.” Baymax looked at him blankly before tottering over to the door. “Please follow me."

Hiro was struggling to put on his shirt without messing up his bandaging, looking up to see the blurred figure of the healthcare assistant on the other side of the lab wall, "It's fi-Baymax? Where are you going? Baymax!" He stumbled after the robot, his limp hindering him just enough to have to struggle in order to keep up with the robot's toddler pace.

“You require proper nutrients.” Baymax replied, carefully opening the door to the lab for Hiro. Once the teen was outside Baymax followed suit, waddling to the main dining hall of the college. Out in the open with the sun shining, Hiro’s paranoia came back; someone was bound to spot them, a robot and a teenager walking around a deserted campus.

“Someone’s going to see us!”

“My scanners do not indicate anyone within the campus vicinity.” Came the calm reply, "And there seems to have been an electrical disruption throughout the establishment's mainframe, leaving any video feed pertaining to security obsolete until a reboot of the operating system is undergone."

"Yeah, okay, you're right... but..." Hiro trailed off, silently wishing he had at least brought his gloves as a means of possible defense.

"Do not worry." Baymax patted Hiro on the head, probably having already scanned him the moment he had illustrated his unease. The action would have looked like a cheap imitation of human comfort to anyone else's eyes, but Hiro found himself both appreciated and soothed. "You are safe in my care."

"I know I am." Hiro smiled, patting the robot's large arm, taking notice of the absence of tape covered punctures. He looked around before asking, "Are we going to the cafeteria?"

“The Institute of San Fransokyo is equipped with a dining hall, so that students may replenish their bodies with a proper diet.” Was the agreement, nursebot leading the way down another curving path. Hiro almost slapped his forehead when his friend wouldn't take his advice and cut through the grass for a quicker route. “I will take you there so that you may receive proper nourishment.”

“But, Baymax, is this really necessary?” Hiro asked, shading his eyes when they stepped out from under a tree's shade. A bird flew overhead, singing it's morning melody.

“I do not wish for your recovery to falter because of malnutrition. As your healthcare provider, it is my duty to ensure a full recovery.” Baymax said, momentarily stopping and turning to follow the bird's arc in the air, causing Hiro to have to pull the robot back.

In the end, Hiro went along with the nursebot, finally succumbing to his stomachs demands. If Baymax was going to make sure he, the patient, ate, who was he to stop the robot. Besides, despite his moaning and groaning, he wasn’t against hanging around his friend a bit longer.

“Though I must advise you against eating any peanut products, as you are-”

“I _know_ Baymax.”

* * *

A mass slunk through the sleazy city streets, bypassing the less moral businesses of San Fansokyo. The masked man riding along its waves paid no mind to the homeless that stared and gaped from the curbs and alleyways, only caring when they were directly in his path (he shoved them aside like ragdolls).

After two or three were 'gently' thrown back, everyone who he came across scrambled to get away, posing no problem. He continued on through the streets undeterred, eventually coming to an openly spaced alleyway filled to the brim with boisterous people and bots of all sizes.

A fight was taking place, the samurai-like robot torturing its enemy, slowly cutting off the appendages; an enormous man was laughing at one end while his opponent looked close to tears. The crowd surrounding the ring was screaming at the machines and their owners, calling for blood; a woman with a golden, snake armband wrapped around her bicep was holding a traditional parasol, surveying the fight with a crude eye.

Everything was effectively put to a stop by the masked man, the crowd silencing as they realized a sea of what looked like black ants was flooding at their feet.

The man in the fighting ring grudgingly stopped decimating his opponent’s robot with his own, eyebrows arching down angrily as he looked up from the interrupted fight- only to freeze when catching sight of the stranger and his swarm.

The big man stood, a number of individuals instantly at his back. "Who dares trespass on Yama's turf?"

The mysterious figure stepped down and away from the shadows, street light shining down on him and the kabuki mask covering his face. People edged out of his way, glancing around nervously.

"Someone with business."

Yama raised a hand, signaling for the muscled men behind him to stand down. He folded his hands, settling them on the brim of his giant belly as he leaned back, "Business, you say?"

"Business." He confirmed, two steps forward bringing the cloaked man to the outer edge of the ring. "And I was told you were the one to go to in order to get it done."

A nod from Yama had the arbitrator walking from her place within the crowd and stopping in the center of the ring. She spun the closed parasol in her grasp.

"What kind of business are we talking here?" All eyes focused on the two, interest piqued. Some of the crowd looked like they wanted to be anywhere beside there, the beginnings of a shady agreement forming.

"I have some people that need to be taken care of."

The woman let out a bark of laughter. "Well, I'd say you're in the right place."

A collection of laughs joined in, ranging from nervous to psychotic.

"Now," The butt of the parasol smacked against the hard ground with a thud, providing something stable for her to lean on. She glanced back at Yama briefly- the boss nodded once, double chin jiggling with the action- before snapping back to the figure before her. "who do we have the privilege of doing business with?"

There was a pause where silence reigned, suffocating in its agitated presence.

It was broken by a curt reply, "Yokai."

"Ah, a man of the shadows." A sly grin formed on her lips as she leaned forward. When he didn't make a move she stopped and twisted to face the audience, looking devilish as she raised her hands, "A true _oni_ in our midst."

She turned back to him as Yama coughed pointedly. "Alright, _Yokai_ , what's in it for us?"

The man behind the mask didn’t comment, but the shadows behind him shifted like a sea of agitated ants. A splash of color emerged from the dark mass in the form of a blue duffel bag. Throwing it past the woman, it rolled to a stop in front of her employer, who, without missing a beat, signaled one of his men to come forward and inspect the object- unzipping it and opening it wide enough for Yama to peek inside. Bills, bunched together by the hundreds, fill the bag to the brim.

Unimpressed, the man looked up at Yokai, expectant.

Two more bags were regurgitated from the mass and kicked in his direction. Yama looked down at them, calculating, before giving a single nod and a greedy smile.

"Consider it done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baymax is truly marvelous.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!


	5. Everything is (Not) Okay

Hiro pressed his hand against the glass, peering through the window, only having eyes for the limp form settled in the bed directly across from him, sheets barely giving off the notion of movement. He could just barely see the green line moving across the screen of a machine positioned next to the bed, a number of wires connecting machine to flesh.

Tadashi's face was relaxed and devoid of any pain, his peaceful expression making it look as if he was simply sleeping. As if at any moment he would open his eyes and wake up by means of a miraculous recovery and he would hug Hiro and tell him that, of course, everything was going to be okay.

But he wasn't awake and everything wasn't okay. He was in the hospital, in critical condition, and Hiro was scared. Hiro was so scared (the fire was long gone and extinguished, but still that hand grasping his heart wouldn't loosen its tight hold) and just wanted to go to his brother, curl up at his side, and close his eyes and not open them until Tadashi was better and everything was right with the world.

Hiro wanted nothing more than to file this whole night as just a silly, little dream- just a bad nightmare, only giving a short scare and revealing to be a figment of his off-the-top imagination. He so desperately wanted to wake up in the comforting folds of his bed with it already fading from his mind, foggy and powerless. Why couldn’t he just wake up already?

_Somebody has to help._

It was because those (almost final) words would not leave his mind, ringing through his cranial like an omen of what could have been- what was to close to being reality. They enveloped him, filling him with a tension that paralyzed him and strung him up. To him, they were so much more- told so much more. Those words, coupled with Tadashi's actions and the horrible ending result, were a wake-up call that set his insides churning.

His brother had almost left him.

Had almost left him alone, never to return. To be a charred body found in the burnt wreckage. His legacy residing only in a simple name on a shiny plaque, one amongst a list of strangers.

And where would they be then? A nephew, a brother, a friend- all lost because of a split, selfless-yet-selfish, heroic-yet-stupid decision.

Tadashi had always been the ‘good guy,’ the pure and righteous advocate always there to lend a hand. Someone who would do his best to help a total stranger, even if there was no gain or reward to be returned; it didn’t matter if they were an upstanding citizen or a lowly hobo, he never judged and offered all that he could. There was no concern for consequences, only the then and now- someone needed help and he was the one to give it.

An easy martyr.

There were whispered words between the doctor and nurses, truths that they didn’t want Hiro to hear. Aunt Cass spoke with them multiple times (always adopting that quiet, muttered voice that made Hiro on edge because Aunt Cass was never timid, but sure and confident in her own eccentric way), all of them giving wary glances in his direction when they didn’t think he was paying attention.

But Hiro didn’t need to hear what they were saying. The expression on Aunt Cass’ face spoke volumes and told him more than their charts ever could; living with his aunt for so many years had made Hiro a master at reading her, whether it was knowing when the best time for him to try and cajole some sweets out of her or accept his punishment after a particularly stupid stunt. The little kid inside didn't want to hear any of the horrible news, but the stubborn teenager was screaming for answers.

And reading her face now told Hiro that things weren't fine. Told him of the puncture done to Tadashi's ribs, cracking one and barely missing a smoke-filled lung. Told him of the varying degrees of burns spread on his brother's right side, going so far as to trail up his neck and caress the lower half of his ear. Told him of the difficulties that would come in his recovery- the 'if he recovered' left unspoken- of how it wouldn't be easy, both physically and mentally exhausting.

That Tadashi wouldn't be able to do it alone.

So, Hiro had promised himself that he would be there for his brother, just as Tadashi had been there whenever Hiro was even remotely in danger. Now it was his turn to help and care for and look over. Hiro would finally use that big brain of his and make a difference, all in his brother's name.

A sudden desire to help burst in his chest, threatening to overcome him. He _wanted_ to help Tadashi, to be there every step of the way and push him further- far farther than he ever would had gone if he were alone. He'd create whatever he could, anything that had the slightest possibility in helping his brother. With his microbots destroyed by the fire, he was now imagining the multitude of ways they could be used; microbots gave way to robotic prosthetics, then to fully functioning exoskeletons. Give a neural cranial transmitter to a disabled man or woman and they could do so much more, be so much more. The possibilities were endless.

Not only that, but Tadashi would be safe. Safe and not damaged and proud.

Which made the fact that the hospital staff wouldn’t let anyone in the room all the more frustrating. In the movies, the friends and family always seemed to see the patient immediately, with none of the waiting. The doctors and nurses were swayed, either by force or with the goodness of their heart to allow that one exception (the consequences nothing in comparison to the loving reunion scene). But real life was far different than the movies, where people were strict and careful and wouldn’t let a boy see his older brother despite all his bribes and pleas. It was a horrible kind of taunting with how they let Hiro see his brother, but wouldn't allow him to go to him, only a thin piece of glass separating them. He wouldn’t give his brother an infection by just standing in the room, would he?

An almost-but-not-quite-there weight settled onto his shoulder, startling him. He looked up to meet the eyes of Aunt Cass, looking impossibly tired and old.

“You okay?” She whispered, as if speaking louder would have him running off like a frightened animal. It was an absurd notion because he'd never felt anything stronger than the pull that was forcing him to stay. Maybe she was afraid of waking Tadashi. (Which, by the amount of general anesthesia pumped into his bloodstream, was impossible and unrealistic at this point- the fact of it making Hiro sadder the more he thought about it.)

"No." He said truthfully, eyes suddenly stinging. His gaze returned back to the window. "I should've..." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I should have stopped him."

His voice broke and he had to angle his head away, ashamed and unwilling to face his aunt with such weakness. Though he felt her shift, claiming that 'no one could've seen this coming, you especially' as her arms came up to encircle him from behind, his body was numb, unable to truly feel her warmth and react to it.

Another glance at the near-empty room, only occupied by an unmoving body and cold machinery, broke him. Suddenly, all that previous confidence and hope left him, draining out of him to make room for the fear and uncertainty that filled him to the brim.

Hiro turned, feeling the lump in the back of his throat return, forthwith unable to look at the feeble form of his brother any longer. He breathed heavily, trying to stifle the tears as he leaned into his Aunt’s embrace. Despite his reluctance of crying in front of anybody, even Aunt Cass, his bottom lip wobbled and he couldn’t keep his expression neutral any longer, "I just want him _back_."

The scent of raspberries and coffee grinds reached his nose as his aunt brought him even closer and started stroking his hair, trying to soothe his trembling form and the fires consuming his heart, "I know honey, I know."

He guessed she was hoping that saying those words would somehow make everything turn out better. That the worst would smooth over and they wouldn’t have to deal with any of this pain much longer. That with those comforting words the fire would be put out and Tadashi would wake up and get better, his usual carefree smile there to greet them. But Hiro found himself not soothed, but rather, even more agitated, burning in anxiety and in fear.

And he didn’t think he'd be getting out of that fire anytime soon.

* * *

 

The streets of San Franasokyo were filled, people hurriedly making way for the girl speeding through the streets. Ever the bicyclist, GoGo was relatively recognizable to the usuals on the streets. Someone cat-called, but she was used to that sort of thing and ignored the boisterous "Hey Gorgeous, where you headin'?"

GoGo only focused on pedaling as hard as she could to make her bike go faster. Even though it had no electromagnetic suspension, she was still gaining some serious speed, friction be dammed. She ran through numerous red lights and stop signs, cutting off cars and pedestrians alike, curses and shouts following in her wake.

 _Stupid boys with their stupid hero complex_ , she thought as she took a sharp left, her left foot leaving its pedal momentarily to brace against the ground as she finished the turn.

She'd separated from the rest of the gang once they had left the hospital, realizing that they wouldn't be seeing their friend anytime soon and their presence would help no one (Tadashi would have surely scolded them for their vigil, going on about sleep deprivation and how they needn't worry about him because he was fine, honest). Only Honey had objected in her leaving, offering comfort with a dim smile and an invitation to her house, but GoGo had rejected her, stating that she needed to be alone. Bidding them goodbye with a flick of her hand she had run off, breathing heavy and heart throbbing.

Usually, going for a ride around the city would clear her head, but it wasn’t working like it should have. Her mind was still plagued by the how sos and the what ifs- which frustrated her because she was Gogo and she never let something as insignificant as past actions keep her down. So she could do nothing but let the fire of anger and, dare she say it, fear run through her veins, fueling her speed.

But, she decided, if she didn't punch something or someone- and soon, she was going to explode. She itched for some violence, but the only person she was interested in hurting was in critical care.

All for a dead man.

That fact, that it was all for nothing, made her angrier. Made her angry because heroes like Tadashi weren't supposed to end like this. They weren't supposed to have their life snuffed out like a dying candle, but be the bright beacon that reminded everyone that good would always triumph over evil. They were supposed to come out on top. They were supposed to _live_.

And it made her furious that Tadashi might not.

But, honestly, why of all things did she have to know a good-for-nothing moron? Fred, the undefeated champion of stupid, had never done something so reckless (that was saying something because Fred had done some idiotic things in the short span of time Gogo had had the displeasure of knowing him). Honey was an excitable arsonist, but she was always safe within her limits, even though sometimes Gogo would like to be able to do at least one test run on her bike without the threat of being dyed pink looming over her. Wasabi, despite his narcotic behavior when it came to organization, knew when not to go too far and, Gogo grudgingly agreed, was the sanest of them all. All of them were crazy in their own way, but all simultaneously knew when to tone it down- a memo Tadashi Hamada hadn't seem to have gotten.

There should've been a rule- no, a law for prohibiting stupidity, heroism included. In fact, GoGo had half mind to march on down to city hall and start enforcing it. She should, seeing that doing the right thing only got people mugged, abused, sent to the hospital, or six feet under.

She barely evaded a car, the man slamming on the brakes last minute as she cut across the street. In response to the yelling, she made a rude gesture, already half a dozen cars ahead and turning into an alleyway. She didn't have time to bother with strangers, her mind already preoccupied.

But it was because she had been thinking about stupid baseball cap wearing idiots and what could have been that she didn't see the cat that decided to run across her path. And so she started, jerking the handlebars as a reflex. The wheels followed their order, turning until they were perpendicular to the bike's frame and drove her out of the way and... right into two trash cans.

With a crash and an exceptionally loud yelp, Gogo found herself flipped over her bike and head first in one of the cans, the force enough to topple it over.

It was a miracle she didn't choke on her gum.

She growled and cursed as she struggled out of her smelly prison, banging her head a few times and surely receiving a few scrapes on her elbows and knees. Her foot kicked at the can, sending it spinning against a brick wall, the sound of it echoing in the dark night and soon enough joined by the barking of dogs.

She grimaced when she looked down and saw the variety of yuck splattered on her clothes and skin, likely the beginning of a new ecosystem. But it was nothing in comparison to her frown when she spotted her bicycle; grime covered the now chipped paint and it was missing half a pedal and sporting a jammed brake system (not that she used that anyway).

"Look at what you did." Gogo accused when she spotted the cause of her problem perching on a nearby wall, motioning angrily at her twisted bike. She sent the cat a glare, pointedly flicking off a banana peel from her shoulder. The cat merely stared at her for a grand total of four seconds before lifting a leg and beginning to groom itself. A flying piece of cabbage had it yowling and running off.

She was brushing off someone's leftover dinner of spoiled burrito off her favorite leather jacket when she heard the whispering.

Used to criminal activities (because nothing legal was ever talked about in alleyways), GoGo wasn't particularly scared. She knew not to make a sound, else being found and accused of sneaking- something that was never worth the trouble. Only, a mentioning of a 'fire at that one robot school' had grabbed her attention and doused the flames of her earlier anger, instantly chilling her to the bone.

Slowly, and ever so carefully, she moved herself closer to the rusty dumpster and stacks of rotting cardboard boxes nearby (the smell told her it was Fish Friday at Ted's Tacos). Peeking her head out as far as she dared, she spotted a group of men gathered by the back entrance to Ted's.

From the looks of them they were simple thugs- she'd seen a few of them on more than a couple of her delivery runs. There was even one she remembered giving a broken nose when he attempt to flirt with her; it was a permanent addition from the look of its crooked angle, her swing always true.

Broken Nose, the newly dubbed thug, was the one with the information with how the others were pestering him. GoGo could only be surprised, the thug's appearance and personality saying otherwise, from what she remembered of their last encounter. Brains really didn't matter when spreading rumors.

"Yama agreed.... on the guy... the Ladies... garden... he's... to last..."

Yama. The name was familiar to GoGo, and to anyone smart enough to live off the street and take heed of the rumors. He was the stupid-yet-ruthless big boss of the underside of San Fransokyo. GoGo had rarely set foot on his turf, the Tenderloin not really her cup of tea; she'd seen his place on Kobe Hill, a view of it prominent from most of the city (a place that most pretended didn't exist even as they looked straight at it from their homes).

And with Yama came the Fujitas. They were definitely the 'Ladies of the Garden,' no doubt about it.

"Why would... on a... hospital?"

At this GoGo froze, zoning in on Broken Nose for an answer. There had been only one admittance to Aiku Center with major injuries: Tadashi. It seemed farfetched to assume things, with the source of her information and all, but GoGo had learned to trust her gut; as much as she hated for it to be true, the chances were high. But why would...?

"Who knows... but... " GoGo wanted to scream in annoyance as Broken Nose turned away, the rest of his sentence lost. She was half tempted to throw a half-eaten chimichanga, but refrained herself.

The thugs were leaving, and with them, GoGo's chance for more information. Broken Nose glanced around nervously and looked like he had more to say but was afraid to, as if a vengeful demon would jump out of the shadows and swallow him whole. When his roaming eyes came upon her hiding spot GoGo ducked back, head inching forward after not even two seconds.

"...Yokai... black army... dead.."

Army? Was there going to be a war? Between who? Maybe Yama and Mr. Sparkles? They had always hated each other, being the two big names in the criminal world and fighting each other for territory. If that was so then there was going to be a major bloodbath. The streets weren't going to be safe for anyone, whether they picked a side or not.

But what was a _Yokai_ , Gogo wondered. A new gang? Or a new drug? It was anyone's guess. Judging by the name, it wasn’t going to be easy to find out.

Tadashi had no connections to the mafia as far as GoGo knew, so why was the institute fire and the robotics major, both perfect examples of San Fransokyo's high-end establishments and what they had to offer, being whispered about in the ghettos? If anything, Hiro was the connection, but the kid never delved in deeper past the bot fighting. So how on Earth was Tadashi, the goody two-shoes he was, involved?

One quick check revealed that the thugs were gone. Less time spent talking, less time to get caught.

Lips pursed, she pushed herself out of the garbage and gathered her bike. Some free time and a replacement for the chain and other parts would have it back in working condition. Though that wasn't the main problem here, nor her top priority. Yama had a deal going on and the Fujitas were a part of it.... and it concerned Tadashi(?).

Interesting.

And dangerous.

She'd have to do some more digging, but Gogo was nothing if not determined (stubborn).

* * *

 

Days past, Hiro found himself under Baymax’s watchful care and becoming more and more agitated as he waited for his wounds to heal. The nursebot was persistent to a fault that the teenager keep off his bad ankle, insisting that he take it slow for a week or two as to not harm himself further. For a robot that wasn’t even remotely commanding or forceful, Baymax somehow managed to be both, the epitome of a nagging mother hen. He didn't seem to realize their predicament.

Time was in the essence and Hiro had things to do, people to save, a future to protect. He couldn’t be stuck under the robot’s care, lazing about the deserted school, hiding away whenever someone passed by (it was pure luck that the labs were vacant as a result of Callaghan’s ‘death’).

Hiro was only ever able to get out of the college only after dismissing the nursebot with a forceful, ‘I’m satisfied with my care.’ As a result of not being able to stop him, Baymax opted to activate the moment he came back, his concerns inquired and repeated without delay. And with him active, Hiro was kept under a watchful eye, the wait for his next outing far longer than he wanted it to be.

After the first two days of being hauled inside, he had escaped and went straight to the abandoned warehouse downtown, with the full intent to confront the professor then and there. Only upon entering said warehouse, he had found nothing, the place vacant and rundown as he remembered it. There was no assembly line mass producing microbots by the millions, nor was there a familiar kabuki mask lurking in the shadows.

Callaghan wasn’t there.

Hiro was too _early_. The professor hadn't set up yet, nor had he taken up his masked persona; Hiro was looking for a villain that didn't exist yet. He couldn’t continue on without the world catching up first, at a snail’s pace where he had sped through and cut corners. And so, as he was standing in the empty space where his younger self had run terrified for his life, he had to rethink his entire plan.

He decided to take action rather than wait.

San Fransokyo was scoured daily, Hiro flying high above and scanning for any hint of Callaghan. There was no way the professor was hiding in the districts with residences. If anything, the rundown districts filled with sketchy neighborhoods and businesses were the places to look.

Old alleyways and deserted buildings were the first sites he visited, interrupting more drug deals and bot fights than he thought possible. Homeless people and crooks scattered the moment he appeared, abandoning whatever they were doing with every intention of escaping him (did they think he was the police?). Hiro soon found that he had become something like the plague, people taking no chance near him, either too afraid for themselves or their money.

He had to resort to the old fashion way of getting information: interrogation. Criminals were cornered and questioned, the threat of jail hanging over them (electrocution was only a bluff that he'd never carry out- thankfully no one ever called him out on it) and providing enough motivation to have them spilling their guts. Hiro was more often than not given nothing except extensive insults; attacking was a common reaction, from knives to paper lanterns.

The police found that their jail cells were being filled and quickly, a drastic increase in individuals coming in and confessing to crimes whose trail’s were thought to be long dead and cold, glancing nervously out the windows and eagerly asking when they could take shelter in the safety of a prison cell.

When he wasn't manhunting Hiro visited Tadashi, hacking into the cameras of the hospital during the day and breaking in at night. The prospect of seeing his brother was too strong to keep him away for long, even with balancing his superhero duties and Baymax’s nursing. Taking care to leave not a trace for anyone to find, he was left with watching his brother as he slept. He never said anything or tried to touch him, scared he’d cause a problem and then Tadashi would be gone again, for good this time.

The Tadashi of his memories didn’t have any major scarring or injuries, so seeing his brother laying there with bandages was a strange experience. Hiro caught himself staring more than once, wondering what Tadashi would look like without the wrappings (he’d looked up a fair amount of burn injuries to guess). There was a clipboard next to his bed, the information it entailed something that Hiro didn’t know whether or not he wanted to see (but he read them anyway). Medical jargon littered its pages, but Hiro did understand what a few pieces meant.

This Tadashi was going to have scars.

Scars that would never fully heal and draw the eye of anyone and everyone, something that he was sure Tadashi would likely be uncomfortable with. This Tadashi would laugh it off, of course, jokingly saying that ‘didn’t girls dig scars?’ He’d take it with grace, dealing with the stares he would undeniably receive and the weeks or months of therapy needed to get his strength and flexibility back. This Tadashi would live past the struggles, adapt and find the best out of it, like he always did.

And with that in mind, Hiro would return to Baymax and let the robot treat him, before setting off the next day in search of a missing professor. Traveling through space and time, breaking all the rules and changing history- he’d done it all for Tadashi and he wasn’t going to let anything ruin the chance he’d created for this hopeful future.

If his brother could live on, then he would do all he could to give him the best chance.

* * *

 

Hiro was wandering around the warehouse for the twelfth time in the span of a week, peeking through filthy windows and kicking cans in frustration, when he felt the prickles on the back of his neck.

"Well, will you look at that." A low, feminine voice sounded out from behind him, startling him. His quick, unsuspected roundabout caused him to stumble, almost falling embarrassingly on his butt.

When he glanced up he was greeted with the sight of a woman, tall and slender like Honey, but with none of the girl’s sweetness. She was dressed casual, shorts and low-cut shirt with an embroidered jacket draped around her thin shoulders; it was far too casual for this part of town, with its graffiti and trash and overall repugnant smell. Suspicious, Hiro's eyes narrowed, drawn to the other's most prominent feature, an eye patch covering her left eye- definitely not normal.

But familiar...

“Wh-" He coughed once before continuing, voice lowering. "Who are you?”

Painted lips twitched, “I could ask you the same.”

Not wanting to disclose anything about himself he asked, "What do you want?"

"Nothing. I’m just here to admire the scenery." She answered, unabashed as his refusal to answer and just as reluctant to reveal her own name. Hiro glanced around, spotting a turned over wheelchair in the bushes next to them and half a rundown car further down the alleyway, unbelieving. His stance must have gave away his thinking because she continued sharply, "What, a girl can't take a walk through town without being cornered and accused?"

When he didn't answer she crossed her arms, shrugging, and began circling him, seemingly at ease in the abandoned area. Hiro angled himself so she remained in his sight, wrappers and broken bottles crunching underneath his boots. She didn’t seem bothered by Hiro, opting for a bored and uninterested expression as she continued her languid walk.

“Word on the street is that there's a purple idiot hanging around Yama's turf. I figured I should see for myself- find out if the rumors are true." The slender woman eyed Hiro, with his armor shining in the light despite its scratches and grime, "I guess that'd be you?"

Hiro remained silent, unconsciously pulling his shoulders back in an effort to look more intimidating.

“The suit's a bit much, don’t you think?”

Still, he didn't answer. A slight twinge of pain shot through his ankle, uncomfortable with the position it was currently in. Hiro shifted, providing some relief as he leaned a little more on the other leg. He almost missed how her eyes flickered down, quick as it was, taking in his stance.

"So, what's your story? Yama cheat you? Rough you up a bit too much? If that’s it, get in line. You wouldn't be the first to come after him, let me tell you.” A pause. “Or maybe you're... meeting someone?" Here, she laughed, short and razor-sharp. "A girlfriend? Boyfriend?... Both?"

Hiro was thankful his face was hidden from view when he felt the heat rushed to his cheeks.

Now she was between him and the warehouse, effectively blocking a direct access to the rundown entrance. When she moved a certain way her short rode up ever so slightly, exposing the knife sheaths strapped around either thigh. He acknowledged the fact with a single nod, fighting to remain relaxed as she took one out and started expertly flipping one of them in her hand.

She was skilled, that was clear (and just his luck).

"No, that's not it, is it?" She asked, other hand tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You a dealer? Distributor?" She got nothing out of the expressionless visor covering his face. "Hmm. Yeah, you're right, not likely. But you don't look like the regular thugs coming to join the ranks. Not a regular junkie either. But, hey, stupid comes in all different shades."

She broke eye contact to watch the knife spin in her palm, blade reflecting the weak rays of sunlight that barely made it through the clouds.

"Me. I'm not part of that crowd anymore- too much drama, you know?" The knife sliced through the air as she threw it, catching it with ease. "Retired, I guess you could say..."

Improbable. He'd sooner take a shock from his gauntlets than believe that.

Somewhere in the distance a cat yowled, indistinguishable yelling following it.

She gave him a pointed look. "Now I spend my days running a business downtown. Ever been to the roller derby down on Shi Road?" He gave a curt shake of his head, unable to guess where the conversation was going. She pursed her lips at that, pausing as she considered him through scrutinizing eyes. Then, with a flick of her wrist the blade was gone and back in its sheath. "Well, you should stop by sometimes. It's always good to know what you're up against."

_What._

Unsure of what to do and a bit stunned, he just watched as she abruptly turned and strutted away without another word, leaving him both confused and a bit intimidated.

Could this considered useful? Yes. Was this somehow connected to Callaghan? Maybe. Should he run after her? No, he decided, that was a stupid idea- he could be running head first into a trap. How should he proceed? Honestly, he had no idea.

But he'd finally gotten some kind of lead and, as small and abrupt as it was, it was something. By all the laws of physics, it was something.

He didn't move until he was sure she as gone and there was no possibility of someone taking him unaware. Then he was off, running back to the hospital to check up on Tadashi again, concluding that maybe the warehouse wasn't a bust after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the jumping from point of views causes any confusion, please mention it. It’s hard to differentiate, at this point, between Younger!Hiro and Older!Hiro, but do not worry, progress will be made.


	6. Setting Things Into Motion

“What do you think, GoGo?”

“I think we’re wasting our time here.” GoGo popped her gum, eyeing the purse the latino was holding up, wondering if someone had just randomly splashed paint over it and obnoxiously deemed it fashion. She ignored the hurt face she received for her less-than considerate comment, but instead nodded to one of the many bags at her feet, “But that purse would rock with the new shirt you got- the one from Candy.”

The smile the korean girl was graced with was worth the hours they had already spent lugging their bags through the streets. Even with her day being spent incessantly shopping, with the sun close to the horizon and telling her just how long she had been walking, she found she didn't mind.

Honey had been the one to offer a shopping trip, dragging Fred and Wasabi along for the hell of it. She’d gone on about ‘tough times’ and needing to ‘stick together,’ the two guys falling for her words and pout in two seconds flat. GoGo knew better, knew how her best friend worked; Honey was worried and stressed, which meant shopping- a tedious activity to keep her mind occupied on something other than her problems. And because of the tall girl's general positive and giving nature, the shopping wouldn't be for her, oh no, but for others. In other words, the Hamada family would be sporting new clothes and accessories by the time Honey was done, whether they wanted them or not.

And in Tadashi’s case, whether he woke up or not.

Keeping an ear out for Honey’s usual babble, GoGo watched the strangers passing them by (maybe she’d spot Fred or Wasabi, the pair lost somewhere in the gaming district). Many were dressed in a similar fashion to her friend, although to a new extreme, looking like they had just come out of some girl/boy band video. The korean girl spotted fuzzy hats, ears, tails, and hair clips shaped like candy and bows; then there was those on the complete opposite side of the spectrum, adorning everything from chains to spikes to clothes so ripped it was a wonder they stayed on. She was unfazed, already used to the varying mesh of individuality cramped into the city (it was more like an outdoor catwalk).

She had far more important things to focus on than fashion trends.

What she’d heard from her little dip into the garbage pit was still her secret. Judging from how much Honey was spending, there was no need to give her more problems to worry over; and neither Fred nor Wasabi were fit for this kind of thing. GoGo was fine doing it on her own anyway- less trouble that way.

She knew it'd be too easy just to overhear one conversation said by stupid thugs and expect others to follow suit, the people practically dumping their secrets and intel into her lap. Nevertheless, she’d expected to get more progress than the trickle of useless garble that she was receiving. Of all the times she'd overheard deals and threats and countless secrets on her bike runs, now was not a good time for people to shut their traps. She needed someone to slip up, to say the wrong thing to the wrong person, especially when she was in earshot.

Time was limited. What was being spoken on the streets now wasn’t necessarily going to be the top of the news in a week or two; the gangs would rein in the whispers and get rid of their unwanted baggage. Whoever had it out for Tadashi knew he was an easy target, and soon enough would find the motivation to get off their butts and do something about it.

She walked around a shelf of bracelets, eyeing the cheap things while she briefly pondered over the idea of telling Hiro what she knew. The kid hadn’t responded to any of their texts and calls- or anything really- and Gogo was starting to get annoyed (nope, definitely not worried). Honey had told her that he was always at the hospital nowadays, quiet and generally inactive and unresponsive. His aunt could barely get a word out of him, so really, what chance did they have?

No, she decided, best not involve him. Though a genius he was, he was still just a kid and there wasn't anything a fourteen year old could do against an entire crime organization.

She scanned her surroundings again, sharp gaze rolling over the masses, looking for something- anything- to distracts her.

And she found it.

Just as she popped her gum, something caught her eye- and it wasn't the gaudy necklaces hanging on a rack to her left- directing her attention from the shoppers to a figure slinking through the crowds, around the groups of giggling girls and tourists. He- for it was definitely male, if that loping gait was anything to go by - blended with the crowd, but there was something off, something that made GoGo grow suspicious. She couldn't quite place it. Maybe it was the way his hoodie was drawn, how his hat was pushed all the way down, or how he tried to make himself someone insignificant- whatever it was, it had her on her toes.

A glimpse of a cheek told her that the stranger was eyeing her as well. Good, she thought, undeterred by this knowledge; that meant he was paranoid, which meant he had something to hide, which meant he had something to give her.

Mind instantly narrowing on the idea of possible leads, GoGo craned her neck to keep the guy in sight as he filtered through another wave of tourists, grinding her gum when she lost sight of him.

“What size do you think Hiro is? Will a small be too baggy on him? He’s so skinny… GoGo?” The sound of Honey’s voice jolted GoGo’s attention from her searching back to the girl; her friend was holding up a yellow jacket so bright it was obnoxious and honestly, what was Honey thinking. But before Gogo was distracted enough to respond she saw something out of the corner of her eye- the hooded guy emerging next to a boutique down the block, a dull spot against the light colors featured in the window's display. He had twitched in their direction, causing Gogo to tense- he’d been listening.

“Be right back.” GoGo started walking away and towards the man before Honey could stop her, fully intent on getting some answers. When her friend called out her name, the man jerked again, seeing GoGo making her way through the crowd and in what direction.

He bolted.

And GoGo, abandoning any hope of being discrete, immediately took after him.

She ducked past people, pumping her legs, urging her body to move faster. Despite the difference in height, she didn't doubt that she could gain on the man, using her small size in advantage with the limited space available.

The streets blurred as she rushed by, startled faces disappearing as fast they appeared. The crowded streets became worse, bikes and carts littering not only the street but the sidewalks; some were parked while others had men and women riding them and opposing the flow of traffic. Neither she nor the man cared about that though, shoving people aside with naught a thought of courtesy.

Barely squeezing through two stands, she spotted the man duck under a couch being lifted by two burly men. She had to jump over the stupid thing when it was set down by the surprised movers in the middle of the street, nearly taking a tumble when her foot caught onto a spare cushion. She caught herself on an old parking meter, pulling herself to a stand and, without missing a beat, followed after the trailing jacket as its owner elbowed his way around a booth selling an assortment of fruit.

When she lost him again in the sea of bodies, she wanted to scream. Now more than ever, her biggest wish was to tear down all the paper lanterns and billboards that seemed to plaster every open space available and in the way of her goal. (And honestly, how many cafes did one city need per block?) But she forced herself to calm down and listen to her gut, obediently following its urging to climb the pile of crates to her right for a better viewpoint.

Squinting past the plumes of steam rising from hotdog carts and ramen stands, GoGo struggled to distinguish a single figure within the masses of people. But just as she was about to swallow her pride and anger and give up she spotted him once again. The korean girl had to stifle a bark of laughter when she finally pinpointed him hiding behind a giant replica of a cat wearing a pink bow and dress, somehow managing to look so out of place even in such surroundings.

She vaulted off the crates just as a chef came busting out of a sushi bar with a knife in hand, yelling about the delicacy of his food. Butting through a pair of startled tourists, she was off the safety of the sidewalk and into the busy street.

There was a screech as a taxi hastily slammed on its brakes, stopping itself from running GoGo to the ground. The driver leaned out his window and started yelling profanities at her, which she responded in accordance. She sidestepped its bumper and, climbing over other stopped cars, continue to the intersection; the yells erupting around her didn't dissuade her from walking over hoods. Only three cars ahead of her was her target, causing his own traffic jam as he hastily made his way out of his hiding spot and away from her.

The car behind her spurred forward, hitting her thigh painfully and shoving her into the butt of another vehicle.

"Watch it!" She hissed, banging the hood, putting as much venom as she could in her words. The man behind the wheel looked like he was going to mention that she was the one in the middle of the street, but one glare had him snapping his mouth shut.

She wanted to give the driver a piece of her mind, but the hooded man was already cutting through the junction, headed for a small back street. There was no way she going to let him get away that easy.

Momentarily slipping on the smooth surface, Gogo found her footing and clambered onto the roof of a car, leaping onto another with only a slight disruption of balance- nothing a good pinwheel of her arms couldn't fix. Soon she was leaping past the traffic and gaining on her target, who struggled to push his way between people. With one final jump she touch downed on hard concrete, ignoring the rip she heard more than felt as her knee scraped against the ground.

She was on the move before a random bystander could voice their concern and offer her a hand, sprinting down the small alleyway she had been eyeing earlier, taking a few skidding turns in order to follow the shadow of the man.

It was only a matter of time before he made a mistake.

Like turning into a dead end.

With two buildings on either side and a wall behind him, the idiot had boxed himself in. He’d practically given himself to her on a plate. And he knew it too, desperately looking for an exit and finding himself a caged bird.

“Nowhere to run.” She all but sneered, slinking forward, unable to help herself from savoring the victory. Even her smarting knee would be worth it.

The man whirled around, backing up when he spotted how close she was getting, jerking when he hit the brick wall. Once GoGo saw the man’s heaving chest it occurred to her that she was panting heavily as well, heat crawling all over her neck and cheeks and the feel of sweat on her forehead. She ignored it and the beginnings of aching in her muscles, focusing on the task at hand.

She needed information and this guy was undoubtedly able to give it to her. He had already given a confession of guilt with how he ran, now it was time to figure out the crime. Gone was the time to wait for rumors and whispers- she was a woman of action, not someone who waited patiently.

"Now. Tell me," Eyes, bigger and browner than she expected, flickered to her, strangely reminding her of days spent in the lab and baseball caps. "who are you and what do you know about the fire."

When he didn't answer she reached for his hood, only to be thwarted as he shifted to the side and smacked her hand away. She growled and reached again, this time struggling to immobilize him- he was fairly strong for someone of his slim built. But, soon enough, his arm was in her grasp, ready to be twisted.

Yet, just as she was about to open her mouth to demand answers, something happened. To her surprise, her legs were suddenly brought out from beneath her, just as a good shove was given. The man yanked his arms out of her grip. Her fingers barely grazed his jacket, unable to take him down with her.

She fell with a strangled yelp, hitting the ground with a _thud_ , jamming her elbow. The wind escaped her lungs and she bit back a curse as a spike of pain went through her arm, sharp needles pricking incessantly. Immediately, the man jumped over her and sprinted back to the main streets: GoGo heard a small, breathless laugh (laughing at her expense no less- which was humiliating and _unacceptable_ ).

Getting to her knees, she just glimpsed the man turn the corner and vanish from her sight.

"No!" She growled as she struggled to her feet, running after the man. Reaching the beginning of the narrow passageway, she looked out into the busy street.

There was no sign of him.

GoGo pounded her fist against a trashcan, a curse already on her lips. Kicking the can for good measure and biting back even more profanity when a spike of pain raced up her leg. Ignoring the anxious looks sent her way, she ran back into the sea of people, clinging onto a sliver of hope. She had been so close.

Despite her desperate searching, going so far as to ask nearby vendors and strangers if they'd seen a suspicious guy pass by, she was out of luck. She was left wandering the streets, pushed and shoved as she attempted to go against the current of people. The man was long gone, probably creeping back to whatever slimy gang he belonged.

Making her way back to where she left Honey, GoGo simmered and focused all her frustration on the man, promising herself that she'd hit him right where it hurt the next time she saw him. And she definitely would see him again- that, she promised.

But, for now, she was back to waiting. Again, she wanted nothing else to hurt the man, her fingers twitching at the prospect. She pushed down the violent urges, filing them away for another time.

“Where did you go? You just ran off!” Honey Lemon immediately enveloped her in a hug the moment she caught sight of her, oozing concern and motherly affection. GoGo hated to be the reason for it, but she strengthened her will and forced herself not to show anything out of the ordinary.

“I saw some guy making off with someone’s wallet,” was her instant reply, the lie leaving her mouth with no effort.

"Oh no!" Honey looked to be honestly upset, hands clasping together as she looked around. "Is anyone hurt?"

"No one's hurt," she assured her friend, bending down to pick up the majority of their bags. It was sweet and totally typical of Honey to worry about the person first rather than the stolen money. "But we should head off anyway, so call Fred and Wasabi."

The Latina nodded, not questioning Gogo's decision; she probably saw the shorter's fizzling tension, but opted not to comment on it and for that, Gogo was grateful. But she did, almost as an afterthought as she dialed on her phone, eagerly ask, "Did you catch him?"

"No," GoGo answered, spitting out her gum into a nearby trashcan in front of a grimacing old woman and reaching into her pocket for another, only to find that that was her last one. "I wasn't fast enough."

* * *

The sun had dipped behind the distant horizon long ago when Hiro found himself standing in front of another warehouse in the shadier part of town. Its windows were boarded up, barely covering the crumbling decay, and flaky blue paint covered every part of the walls- it all looked in desperate need of some repairs. Though even with its appearance it was infinitely better off than some of the other buildings around the neighborhood, which slanted and leaned, looking a mere push away from falling.

A sign just above the doorway read _'The Flower Garden'_. Obnoxious, neon lights flickered irregularly, highlighting the teen and his trashed surroundings.

Hiro played with the zipper of his jacket nervously, shuffling from foot to foot as he stared at the bright sign. He readjusted for a third time that night the hat that was threatening to pop off from the untamable mess that was his hair. A bandana he had nicked from the lab was tied around his neck, pulled over the lower half of his face- there was no way he was going to show his face, else he was recognized or attacked (for a second time today).

 _Should I be doing this?_ He asked himself, biting his lip in contemplation. Yes, he needed help, but in the form of criminals?

He had been so easily cornered by Gogo- a frightening experience all on its own- and had only gotten away by pure luck. But he couldn't push it, that luck. He was from a different time and he couldn't continue running around as if it didn't matter, as if there was no danger. Because the danger of being caught was real and ever present with the mere existence of people like GoGo.

So it made sense, in a delusional sort of way, that he would try and find help, even if it was in the form of trust-as-far-as-he-could-throw-them hired help. If it would help keep him from the public's eye and ease his ever growing load of work to do, why not? But was this the right place to go? Did he really want to go in and associate himself with the people within?

A few feet away a man slumped against a wall, watching Hiro through dull eyes. When the man opened his mouth, showcasing a mouth full of either rotting or missing teeth, he barked some garbled nonsense, wheezing out a laugh when he saw the teen start. A few people across the street started to take notice, blank expressions zoning in on him.

Hiro went inside.

The door closed ominously behind him, sealing his fate.

He tightened the knot at the back of his neck, stepping forward into a dark hallway. Along the walls on either side of him was a line of burnt-out lights, drawing attention to the tacky floral wallpaper and cheap molding. Cigarette butts and dead flowers littered the ground, putting forth the need to watch his step.

"You're new."

Hiro started when a voice seemed to come out of the very walls, ducking into a defensive stance.

A bit to his left, leaning out of a square hole in the wall outlined with aging brass, was a man. Curly red hair instantly caught Hiro's attention, along with how he regarded Hiro almost curiously.

"I, uh... who are you?"

The man smiled, the light sprinkle of freckles on his nose crinkling. He simply lifted a hand to point above him, his lilting accent prominent, "Take a gander, kid."

It took some effort to draw his eyes from the ink snake slithering its way up and around the man's arm, sleeve folded over the head and hiding the rest from view, but, eventually, Hiro did look up. Painted above the opening, at the molding's arch, was the word 'TICKETS.'

"Right... tickets..." Who in their right mind would want to buy tickets to enter a rundown derby? And in a neighborhood like this. "Look, I'm here to-"

"Make a deal." Catching a glance of the genius' unsure and hesitant look had the man leaning closer and out of his booth. "You’re here to make a deal, aren't you? I mean, why else would you be here? You definitely aren't a competitor."

"Competitor...? I do- I mean- _pfft_ \- yeah, I'm here to make a deal..." Hiro shoved his hands in his pockets so they wouldn't be seen twitching. "You wouldn't mind reminding me what deal this is, would you?"

He was met with a whistle, long and low, “Comin’ in blind, are we? You have some neck, kid.”

Before Hiro could reply that he wasn't a 'kid,' the ticket man clicked his tongue, appearing sympathetic. He settled his head on his palm, pursing his lips, "Seein’ as you're a bit unprepared, I'll help you out. Free of charge- can’t let someone head in there green as a valley. That's suicide."

That was... unexpected. Hiro thought back to the eyepatch lady's random invitation, wondering whether everyone he was going to meet here was the same. “Thanks… I guess?”

"Yeah, well- to make a deal you'll be needin' something to trade." If it was possible, the man leaned further out; Hiro was sure he was going to topple out and onto the floor. “But, remember, the other one’ll be needin’ you a lot more than you’ll be needin’ her. Use that to your advantage.”

“The other one…? You mean that eyepatch lady?”

The man laughed, “Oh, I wish I could call that to her face, but yeah, her. Anyways, loosen up. Be confident and you’ll be fine- I swear it.”

Hiro was nodding before he knew it. Unconsciously, he was relaxing, the man’s voice and words soothing his smaller fears. It reminded him of Tadashi.

“Find out what she wants.” His sort-of-ally advised, tapping a finger against his temple. “Dangle it in front of her- don’t get her angry 'cause, Lord, she has a temper- just enough for her to see the benefit of the partnership.”

Hiro shifted his weight, a dead leaf crinkling under the heel of his boot.

“Easier said than done, I know. But, if you can't do that, then bluff- an actor never tells his audience when he forgets his line.” The man nodded toward the only other opening in the hallway, excluding the entrance that would lead him back outside. Light peeked through the space underneath it, catching the small dust particles floating in the air. “All you have to do is step right through that door and the show begins.”

Hiro could hear voices on the other side, garbled and unrecognizable.

"Mind yourself."

And with that note of finality the man pulled a dingy looking curtain Hiro had failed to notice across the window, efficiently shutting him out and bringing an end to their conversation.

"Whoa- Wait, h-hold on!" Hiro lunged forward and grabbed at the fabric, ready to tug it back. Only he was startled in letting it go and jumping back a pace when it did it on its own. Bright eyes, unnerving in how they didn't blink, stared at him expectantly.

"Yes?"

"I, uh..." What? What else could Hiro possible want or ask this stranger? To come with him and hold his hand? A complete stranger? No, that was childish and Hiro wasn't a child- he hadn't been one for a long time. So, scraping as much courage as he could, he shook his head and took a step back, "Nothing."

Eyes softened just the slightest, "You'll do just fine, kid. Knock 'em dead."

The man straightened and winked at the teen before retreating once again into the shadows of the window, closing the curtain once and for all. Hiro, the paranoid coward he was, hastily pulled them apart-

-only to find no one there.

"What the-?" He peeked into the booth, finding it barren and having no exit to be seen. The man was mysteriously gone and Hiro was left alone.

He stood there for a few seconds, mind blank. Then, without warning, a sound erupted from behind the door the man had pointed to earlier, sounding suspiciously like a body being thrown against a wall.

That was encouraging.

Taking the few steps so that he was standing in front of the door, Hiro steeled himself. The door knob was cold to the touch and stiff when he tried to turn it, making the door rattle when he thrusted it open with quite an amount of force. He stumbled through, his upper body complaining of its treatment so early in its healing stage.

Massaging his smarting shoulder, he was about to childishly give the door a piece of his mind and slam the offensive wood, only to notice the silence. Hadn't he heard voices moments before?

Looking up, he came face-to-face with a trio of strangers, all of which had their sole attention on him.

“Uh…” His body straightened, becoming rigid as the stares he was receiving didn’t waver. He almost offered a small wave to try and iron out the awkwardness, but stopped himself at the last minute.

He noticed that none of them look ruffled up and that there was nothing to show someone had a close encounter with any of the walls.

Thankfully, one of the people stood up, Hiro recognizing her as the woman he’d met at the warehouse. She nodded at the two men, who immediately got up and left the room without a word. Hiro watched them go, eyeing the rusted back door as it closed (he filed it under a possible escape route if this turned sour).

“No armor today?”

Hiro started, eyes glancing back to her. If he hadn't known any better he would have said that there was a smile playing at her lips.

It occurred to him how mind-wrackingly _bare_ he was. Instantly, Hiro felt a pang of longing for the protective layer of his armor; bulky and obvious, yes, but it could handle a punch. Something must have had given off his discomfort, because her smile widened (like a snake baring its fangs).

"You’re paranoid? Good. You’ll last longer."

That wasn’t something he heard every day, less so for second meetings (really, he had heard weirder and worse at bot fights, so it's shouldn't surprise him how blunt she was). Hiro sighed, trying to look unconcerned and, by association, in control of the situation. “Look, lady-”

“Ren.” She narrowed her eyes, lips twisting in a frown, any hint of humor gone, “Don’t ever call me ‘ _lady_.’”

She sounded so much like GoGo, her words irrevocable, that Hiro found himself nodding immediately, like a puppet on strings. "And what about you? You got a name?" The woman stared at him, expectant.

Hiro walked around the beat-up couch and armchairs stationed in the middle of the room, feeling better- confident even, with something between them. He had to relax, to look like none of this was new, that he was a player. "No."

"No name?" The woman crossed her arms. "It's a bit hard to get by without one, isn't it?"

"No, I have a name." He corrected, feeling the subtle shift of control of the conversation go in his favor (he'd watched GoGo deal with the underworld enough for it to guide him along). He shoved his hands inside his pockets and leaned back casually. "But it's gotta be earned. And you," Here he gave a one shoulder shrug. "haven't earned it."

The lady- Ren, she said her name was- pursed her lips at that. Just as Hiro started to doubt whether he made the right move- he hadn't meant to offend her, just show her that he meant business- she laughed. Laughed and went on to slump in one of the armchairs, an all too familiar looking knife produced from thin air and into her hand, fingers sliding over it as she regarded him almost lazily. "Very cute. Well, what do you want?"

The teen blinked, a little off at the sudden change. He struggled to find the right words, getting flustered the longer he took and the longer she stared at him, needing to take a moment to readjust his hat. Swallowing, he answered, "I need to catch this guy, Calla- Yokai."

She paused in her twirling of her knife, gaze determinedly focused on the action, before starting up again. "Callayoukai?"

"What?" Hiro asked, eyebrows furrowing, before realizing his previous mistake (Fred’s nicknames were catchy, if not creative), "No. That's not what I- no, no, no. Yokai. His na- people are calling him Yokai."

He was received with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous expression, "I haven't heard that anywhere."

"Yeah, well, it's on the down low. You know, every- only the, uh, elite know about it."

"If that's true," Here she paused, resting her chin on her hand, as she gave him a skeptical look. "then why are we talking?"

Hiro fought off the urge to growl in frustration, particularly when he saw the amused cat-like smile once again curl on the woman's lips. Instead, he took a deep breath, glancing about the room, "His name doesn’t matter. All I need is a pair of eyes on the inside- I'll even pay you."

Her dark eyes flashed and, suddenly, she wasn't joking around anymore. "Go on."

Hiro inwardly sighed at her sudden interest, but tried to keep his composure; he’d dealt with the shifty side of San Fransokyo before, knowing how to get the most profits out of a situation. He had to play the game- not only that, he had to win. Though at the moment he had no idea how he was going to pay the woman, that was a problem he could fret over in the future (he could make his bluff become reality). He’d think of something- he always did.

All that mattered was that he found his bargaining chip.

"I can give however much you need- money's not a problem. Give me a date and I’ll deliver.” He thought of nights in the slums, filled with strangers and robots. He remembered people looming over him, thinking him weak and over his head, pushing him to the curb. Memories of conning and deceiving, of surprised faces and winnings. Money- _folded, crumpled, bills in rolls, stacks, piles_ \- definitely wasn’t going to be a problem. “All you have to do is give me information. Anything strange or unusual on the streets- a new face, high tech that’s never been seen before... you name it, I want it.”

“Just info?” The woman questioned.

Hiro, having seen the same look settled on her face on con artists, leaned back and folded his arms, “Yeah... unless you can offer more…”

“Nope.” Popping her ‘p,’ she flippantly waved her hand, feigning innocence, “All I want to know is if I’ll be getting _all_ of my cash- no deceiving, no nothing. This business isn’t cheap, you know.”

Hiro rolled his eyes, allowing his confidence to settle; he acted like the swindler he had been, swaggering and uncaring in his display, “Like I said, give me a date and I’ll deliver. Just point me to the nearest bot fight.”

“A bot fighter? You think you’re just going to waltz right in and wipe the floor with everyone?” He matched her incredulous expression with his own, unfazed at her lack of confidence in his abilities. It wouldn't be long until she realized how wrong she was for doubting him.

"Don't worry, you'll get your money. Now," He said, giving her a steady stare and extending out a hand. “do we have a deal?”

She pursed her lips, eyeing him as she leaned against a small armoire. Hiro could hear the steady buzz of electricity from an old lamp that lit up the room in a yellowish glow. Finally, she smiled and took his hand, nails purposely biting in his skin.

He refrained from pulling his arm back because _damn, that hurt more than Mochi's claws_.

“We have the beginnings of one-" She corrected, "but, yes, I do think we have a deal.”

* * *

The second time the streets were flooded with strange, metallic waters, there wasn't much uproar.

People were still certainly surprised- definitely still scared. Having the streets clear one moment and then suddenly being surrounded was unsettling for anyone, criminal or not; witnessing a dark figure emerge out of the black sea was able to make the strongest slink away in fear.

This time around, people knew to turn away and keep to themselves, acting like nothing was crawling over pavements and cars. The masked man was smartly avoided, his destination clear. Kobe Hill wasn't a place for a pleasant visit, even for friends. However, the mysterious man wasn't deterred by the increasing number of thugs and open display of weapons.

This time he found himself at an extravagant home, decorated with expensive looking furniture and state of the art appliances. Patrols of men were stationed at every possible entrance, watching the black mass make its way into the compound with gleaming eyes, fingers twitching against the triggers of their firearms, ready to act on the simplest order.

The owner of the home raised an arm in greeting, uncaring that his guest had barged in without a proper introduction or invitation, "Ah, Yokai, what do I owe this pleasure?" He broke the lobster claw he held with a _crack_ and unceremoniously slurped at its meat.

The masked man was silent and still, watching as Yama continued eating, tearing the dead crustacean apart and uncaring of the juices that dribbled down his chin. Only when the boss had paused to take a drink, the alcohol bubbling over the brim of its glass and the stubby fingers holding it, did Yokai finally move. Reaching into his coat he brought out a small, square photo and dropped it to the floor. Yama's beady eyes watched as a tendril of black shot out and caught it, slivering like a snake towards the table and presenting it to the persons assembled. With a grunt from Yama, the biggest of his men stepped forward and snatched it, lip curling as he peered down at the image.

A boy wearing a baseball cap smiled back.

"This is the target I informed you about."

The photo passed through hands, every pair of eyes memorizing the face. It wouldn't be forgotten anytime soon.

It wasn't long until it reached Yama, who glanced at it before turning to the masked man, "How soon do you want it done?"

"The sooner the better."

"My Ladies with handle it."

The eyepatch woman, who had been sitting quietly in the shadows till then, flickered her eyes to her boss, surprised. She leaned close to the mountain of a man, keeping her eyes on the figure in front of them, whispering, "My girls are taking on the job? We didn’t talk about this."

"What's there to talk about? I tell you to do something and you do it." A lobster tail was broken off and dipped in a dark sauce, a drop sailing through the air and splattering onto the woman's cheek.

Her anger flared dangerously for a moment, but it was doused a mere second later. Face blank, she gave a curt nod before leaning back into her chair, arms crossing over chest. She didn't make a move to wipe her face.

Yama took no notice as he reached for the photo with grimy hands, leaning his head back in order to better examine the thing. Blotches of yellow grease were already staining it, discoloring the corners and dripping down the subject's face.

The big man laughed abruptly, glancing at Yokai before tossing the photo on the table, where it slid until a stray knife flew from the shadows and pinned it down.

"He’s already dead."

* * *

 Fred practically sprinted through his base, sliding through hallways and launching himself over furniture with ease. He was on a mission- no, he was reporting intel to a most trusted ally about the most amazing of things.

“Heathcliff! Heathcliff, my man!” He hollered, finding another room empty and devoid of said butler; all the other rooms he checked were the same (he wondered when they had gotten a second library), but he wasn’t deterred, “Where are you, dude?”

“Exactly where I said I would be, Master Frederick. In the kitchen...” A calm voice spoke out, directing Fred to the open door to his right a little ways back. He quickly backtracked, passing the staircase and the hall of family portraits once more before barging into the kitchen, throwing grace to the curb as he slid on the pristine tile floor and nearly fell to the ground. But there was his faithful butler, standing behind the island centered in the middle of the room and pouring himself a cup of tea; croissants and finger sandwiches were placed almost decoratively on a platter by his elbow.

Fred slammed into the marble counter, breathless, but never more happier. He leaned forward, half laying on the counter and completely shoving his face into the man’s personal space. “Have you heard? Tell me you’ve heard! Oh please, please, tell me you heard!”

“Heard what, Master Frederick?”

“The most amazing, bodacious, incredible, monumental thing to ever pop up in our universe!”

"Such news hasn't yet graced my ears." A spoon of sugar was added to the cup, a clinking sound produced when the butler started stirring.

Fred yanked a nearby remote from the counter, dramatically clicking it in the direction of the cabinets, spinning and presenting it with much grandeur. Without delay, they opened up to show a large TV, which turned on and skipped to the proper channel with a few more clicks. The news reporter on the screen was speaking with a police officer, the end of their interview able to be heard despite the low volume.

_“-San Fransokyo’s criminals are sitting in behind bars tonight- so many that the police are having trouble finding space before they can relocate them to different facilities.”_

The channel changed.

_“-a family sleeps well tonight knowing that they evaded tragedy. Not three hours ago, 11-year old Yuka Sato was caught in the cross-fire between two feuding gangs, only a block from her home. But before the showdown could begin, an unlikely hero came on the scene-_

Another newscaster graced the screen.

_-should this mask vigilante keep his self-proclaimed title of San Fransokyo's protector? He appeared during the Institute fire, but how does anyone know he has the city's best interest at heart? Here with me to discuss the city's new h-_

And another.

_“-numerous accounts of a human-shaped projectile in the sky have left citizens confused and anxious. What is this strange phenomenon? Many theorize that it is related to the supposedly new hero of San Fransokyo. Others be-”_

The footage froze as Fred all but crushed the remote button, stopping it at a blurred image of a purple figure. He pointedly looked at his butler, jabbing the remote at the TV screen with as much fervor as he could muster, expecting a response.

“Oh…” Heathcliff took a sip from his cup, “you mean the man from the showcase? The one who saved all those people and your friend? He’s doing more than just saving people from fires now, is he?”

“He’s gone above and beyond, my dear Heathcliff. He’s become so much more...” The young play boy did a little jig, not at all discouraged by the lack of excitement by his companion.

Heathcliff eyed the boy with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

“He’s a superhero!” Fred all but giggled, shaking with excitement; he jumped about his butler, offering a playful punch when one was deserved (which, to say, was every other second). “A superhero! A real superhero! Can you believe it?”

Heathcliff didn’t complain, nor did he spill a drop of his drink, “Completely mind-blowing."

There was a pause where Fred ran back to the TV, nose pressed against the screen. Eyes not straying from the pixelated picture before him. When the young philanthropist spoke next, it was with bated breath, "Now... Ask me how I know."

Heathcliff set down his cup, having finished his drink, and dabbed at his face with a moist towel, "How do y-”

"I'm glad you asked!" Fred finally extracted himself from the TV and turned, snatching a sandwich from the pile and taking on a pompous air, “It’s clear as day. If he’s not a superhero, then he’s a vigilante.” The sandwich was shoved into his mouth whole, crumbs spraying everywhere as he continued on, another sandwich already within in grasp, “Classic superhero story.”

The teen crouched low, splaying his arms out, doing his best in taking on a serious expression, “He started as an innocent bystander, your average Joe- but then, tragedy struck!" His expression became solemn. "With the death of his family, he set out to confront the cause of his inner torment- his arch nemesis. He wanted the villain to pay- he wanted _revenge_."

"But, before he could spiral out of control and become what he promised to fight against," Here, Fred jumped onto a nearby chair, chest puffed out and in his best mimic of a heroic pose, "his team of fellow superheroes came to his aid. He was stopped from committing the most heinous act for any hero... murder."

For a moment, it looked like the boy was done, only to continue even more fervently.

"He was reminded of his family. They had been his light, his everything. They helped shape who he was; their love eternal even if they weren't, providing the base of the moral code he lived by- wanting to help the world and everyone in it. If they had been alive, they'd be horrified at what he'd become." With a hop, Fred was off the chair and slowly arching his hand through the air, staring off into the distance. "He saw reason and made it his duty to protect those in need, whether or not he was accepted. That's what his family would've wanted- what he wanted."

The billionaire brought his fist to his chest, head bowed, as if finishing an epic tragedy. Heathcliff gave a polite clap. 

"That is certainly one possibility, sir."

Immediately abandoning his pose, Fred grinned at his butler. He hopped to the counter again, reaching for another sandwich, looking at that TV screen once more, "I have to meet this guy."

"How do you plan to do that, sir?"

"With your help, obviously." Fred said through a mouthful of food, "You'll help, right Heathcliff?"

"Of course, sir."

Fred whooped and offered a fist to his butler, which was precisely returned, before setting his focus on the rest of the food. His speech had given him the munchies.

Whatever happened, things were only going to get more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extremely late update, finals week was hectic. It didn’t help that this chapter posed a real struggle, ending up being longer than the others.  
> And, really, we didn’t mean for GoGo to be so prominent in the story (she’s just the most capable and is perfect for what we need). Don’t worry, the rest of the characters will appear more as the story progresses.  
> If anyone’s interested, [Mighty Long Fall](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UjZqcDYbvAE) is a song by ONE OK ROCK, which provided some major inspiration for this story. We recommend you all to check it out!


	7. Game On

Hiro grunted as he pushed a rusted car door out of his way, sending it sliding down the garbage pile. It set off a landslide of scrap metal, dust gathering as high as his place atop a thirty foot mound of trash.

Finding nothing desirable in this pile, he made his way down, taking care to steer clear of any possible inhabited machinery (running into a nest of rats wasn't something he really wanted to do). He jumped down to the ground, kicking some screws and coils that littered by his feet, most of them too damaged and/or rusty for any potential use.

The next three piles he searched offered nothing as well, drowning his hope and mood. He tossed useless junk, uncaring of the resounding clangs they produced as they toppled and scraped against other materials- he had no fear of being loud and catching any unwanted attention.

Barely anyone came by, and if they did, they kept to themselves. Scavenging for junk metal wasn't seen as particularly respectable, nor was it bragged about; Hiro himself had never really understood why- it wasn't like he was stealing or anything. He and Tadashi had found multiple broken down parts and made them good as new- better even. Yet, despite that there were countless technological treasures buried under the garbage just waiting to be discovered, people still frowned upon the exercise.

Hiro half-heartedly wiped at the dust and grime clinging to his pant legs before leaning back and stretching out his back, eliciting a low groan when it cracked. Tiredly, he straightened and looked out over San Fransokyo's city dump. In the distance he could see two large trucks drive on site, hauling in the city's trash. He wondered if he'd get lucky and, when he would eventually look through it like he did with all the rest, he'd find something worth salvaging.

Whenever he had come here with Tadashi, they had always seemed to find something. Parts had seemed to fall in their laps with only minimal searching. And even on the slower days, which were few and far in between, his brother had always lifted his spirits with a simple, 'We can't give up now- the Hamada brothers never give up!' But now, without even his brother's optimistic words, Hiro felt his patience run thin, because, really, how had he found nothing even remotely promising after three hours of searching?

He kicked a discarded blender, growling as he rubbed his face, only stop when he felt the cool stickiness of grease. Muttering about the stupidity of the world, he was about to call it quits and head to SFIT to shower, opting to come back another day.

That is, until he caught a glimpse of an old generator peeking out from under what looked to be an old, red pickup.

An inner voice that mimicked Tadashi's was cheering him on, urging him to check it out and find something worthwhile, while the soft voice of Baymax whispered caution and safety procedures so that Hiro might beware of possible toxicity in the vicinity.

He was instantly tossing screws and metal plates aside, worming his way to and under the truck; he let out a cheer when he found the capacitors in relatively good shape. Lugging it out from underneath the vehicle was the biggest challenge, but, after a lot of pulling and tugging, he achieved his goal.

Feeling better and more optimistic, the teenager even pulled up the hood of the truck, inspecting the engine nestled there. He recognized it as a two-stroke industrial combustion engine and decided that he was more than capable of using it for a rudimentary bot (not even close to Megabot's level, but there was nothing he could do about that).

Still, it would dominate all others, he knew. He grinned, giddy at the thought of seeing star-struck faces and overwhelmed bot fighters.

Glancing at the sky, he figured he had half a day to create a winning robot.

It was time to get his game on.

* * *

 

It was past midnight when GoGo slipped out of her too quiet house and into the streets, unable to sleep and needing to do something- anything- so she wouldn’t feel like everything was only a simple touch away from falling apart.

It was a perfect time for a hospital visit, she told herself.

Her body moved, briskly walking across a deserted street and pass an alley where muffled shouts could be heard (probably a bot fight, which reminded her of Hiro and then of Tadashi- which then brought on a swirling mass of emotions that she thought best to swallow and ignore). A few blocks later she, thankfully, arrived at her destination, the bright sign that meticulously spelled, ‘San Fransokyo Aiku Center’ there to greet her. She was past the empty parking lot and at the front doors in no time flat, her hand reaching out for the door handle before she realized what she was doing. Refusing to think about how weak of will she was beginning to let through her hard exterior, she allowed her body to bring her into the building.

The main lobby was clear of anyone except for a lone woman stationed at the receptionist desk. Sipping what looked like to be coffee, she seemed wide awake despite the ungodly hour, like it was an average night (and it probably was). She looked up the moment GoGo entered, a smile forming as the Korean girl made her way to the desk.

“I’m here to visit a patient.” GoGo kept her gum chewing to a minimum, attempting to act more awake than she felt. “His name is Tadashi Hamada.”

The receptionist didn’t question why her visit was so late into the night, something GoGo was grateful for (because there would be no reasonable answer). “Are you a family member?”

“I’m a close friend.”

Nodding, the woman turned to her computer and typed away, different tabs being brought up on the screen. “Hamada, Tadashi… ah, found him. He-” Just as she was going to continue, she frowned, squinting at the screen. GoGo discreetly leaned forward and caught a glance at a fritzing screen before it settled, clearing up to reveal a healthy-looking Tadashi looking back from the corner of the screen. The receptionist didn’t take any notice of her, muttering, “That’s weird. Better call for some help…”

GoGo stepped back and faked looking at the cards and pamphlets on the desk when the receptionist turned to her once again, a smile back on her face. “Sorry about that. Your name?”

“GoGo Tomago.”

Not bothering to ask whether or not that really was her name, the woman typed it into the computer without missing a beat, earlier tech troubles ignored. Offhandedly, GoGo noticed the name tag on the woman’s shirt, which read ‘Maggie Stevens.’

As Maggie filled in the rest of whatever form, GoGo looked around the lobby while she waited, finding everything bland and boring, none of the magazines in the corner looking particularly interesting. She idly wondered how fast she could slide down the hallway, the floor mopped to a shiny gloss.

“Alright, everything looks to be in order. Mr. Hamada is in the east wing- room thirty-six. The elevator there," she pointed to Gogo's left, "can take you to the second floor and you just follow the corridor to your right.”

GoGo didn’t reply that she already knew where Tadashi’s room was, memorizing it when she’d gone with the rest of the gang earlier that week, but nodded nonetheless.

“No food or drinks are allowed.” When Maggie pointedly stared at GoGo, the Korean girl held back a sigh and spit her gum out in the small trash bin to the side. Smiling, the woman continued, “You won’t be alone. We have night guards and doctors around, so, if you need anything, just call.”

GoGo nodded again.

Then she was bombarded with the standard rules for visitors, keeping quiet through it despite already having heard it once, twice before. Wash her hands. Don’t touch anything. Definitely don’t do anything to put the patient in danger. Yell for a nurse or doctor the moment something is wrong. Keep the visit short. No overnight stays. Blah, blah, blah. (Ugh, would this never end? Honestly, if Gogo wanted to fall asleep she would've stayed home and gone to bed.)

Finally, she was sent off with her visitor’s pass and a polite smile, though she could feel eyes trained on her back the entire way to the elevator.

GoGo paused, her finger on the button, before looking back at the woman. She gave her usual salute, albeit more serious and respectful, and managed a quick “Thanks.” Then the doors closed and she was faced with a copy of herself reflected onto the shiny metal that made up the elevator doors. She made a face, which was promptly returned, and looked away.

The trip was prolonged and agonizing, the silly music only annoying GoGo. With a _ding_ , the doors opened and she was out of there in a flash, slipping between the sliver of space; she was already halfway down the hall by the time she heard the elevator open all the way and then groan close.

Passing a pairs of nurses and doctors, seeing more activity than that in the lobby, she didn't realize how much better she felt seeing another living soul. She wasn't alone and, considering the reasons for her current stress, having witnesses nearby was a small pro.

GoGo plowed through the white halls, numbers and doors filling by, white and clean and impeccable. So much of it looked the same that she wondered how often an employee got seriously lost. There was no way she was going to lose her way though, not when she had the destination so firmly set in her mind.

When she entered the right room, Tadashi was just as still as the last time she had seen him days prior. Only this time around he looked less pale, the lack of glass separating them making him look livelier, more _real_.

Standing there, GoGo was at a loss at what to do. She couldn't just start talking, could she? Tadashi wouldn't answer in his usual helpful way, telling her to take it slow and easy.

Besides, what would she even talk about? All her troubles and the fact that the mafia was out to get him? Or that his little brother was a recluse, unresponsive and dismal. Maybe she'd go on in detail how the world sucked and made people worry for no legitimate reason, setting aside the greatest disasters to those who didn't deserve it.

No. That wouldn't do him or her any good.

Sighing, she dragged the nearest chair over to the bed, turning it around and straddling it; she rested her chin on her hands, listlessly staring straight ahead and making a conscious effort to ignore the sounds of the machines.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

It wasn't until he stepped back into the ring that Hiro truly comprehended how long it had been since he'd been bot fighting.

Everything was loud and fast and just plain _busy_ \- just like he remembered. The calls of destruction and violence had his muscles tensing. The bright lights, which bore down on him with an intensity similar to that of the sun, blinded him. Nasty and gruesome remarks exchanged in the crowd had his stomach flipping, but his mind on alert (only the good ones were catalogued for later use). He could feel the cool metal of his bot, goosebumps running along his arms, hypersensitive to even the slightest displacement of the atmosphere.

It was exhilarating.

It was in this high that Hiro realized something: he wasn't even remotely afraid. And why should he be?

All his past memories of bot fighting were colored with a slight haze of apprehension and fear. Of course, there was the sweet elation of winning a fight and then delicious satisfaction of trumping over all those who thought him less than dirt. But it always, _always_ , ended off in a more menacing tone. Someone would come to the decision that they didn't like being cheated, especially by a puny kid barely in his teens. Then there was the whole thing about criminals wanting to get even. That was when the true fear and doubt came crashing back, when he was being cornered by brutes twice his size against a wall, with violence an all too corporal reality.

He would suffocate on it then, the fear. It would envelop him and take over, there to stay if not for the godsend that came in the form of a roar of an engine and strong arms pulling him to safety. Only then, on the back of a moped (where the only danger was whether or not he'd bruise after the assault of smacks he'd receive from his worried brother), would he relax and feel the fear rush out of him, replaced by the cool rush of security.

But now, even with Tadashi absent, Hiro felt secure. Felt that he could handle his own.

The overwhelming smell of body odor and sweat mixed with oil brought him back to Earth, followed by a rough jab from the side by an uncaring gambler. Focus, he had to focus.

He had come here for a reason. To fight and win.

Now, he just had to find a suitable adversary...

Hiro's eyes skimmed over the crowd momentarily, noting those that they looked like ordinary citizens and others who were definitely usual in this part of town, before stopping onto a form in its very center. A man, tanned and sporting a scar running from his left ear to the corner of his mouth, was thumping his barrel chest with vigor as he growled and cheered and prowled the ring like a caged animal.

“Who’s next? Who else wants to taste defeat by the claws of my monster, Yoshi?" The man was roaring and laughing, beady eyes searching the crowd. None were willing to take on his challenge, most content to avoid his gaze and hide their bots behind their backs.

Perfect.

Hiro slunk his way through the throng of people, slipping into a familiar routine and role. Shoulders hunched themselves while his neck pushed forward. He let the people shove him aside, riding the current of the crowd until it brought him to the actual ring.

"Um, I'd like to..." Hiro's meek reply was only heard by a few who smirked and laughed as he half-heartedly tried to get the attention of the arbitrator barely three feet away from him.

Clearing his voice loudly, he yelled out a forceful "I will."

And just like he predicted, the congregated mass as a whole turned towards him. He made sure to look startled, eyes widening as he took a step back- only to be pushed out and into the center of the ring. Hiro pulled his jacket sleeves further down, fisting them in his palm in what he thought would look like nervous apprehension. "O-or, at least, I think I will."

The man who had been screaming out into the crowd stopped and stared at him, cold eyes taking him in. From the look that crossed the man's face, he didn't think Hiro was anything much. In fact, the man laughed, right in Hiro's face.

"And who dares challenge the mighty Sumi!"

Hiro paused, eyebrows coming together in a frown of thought. He didn't want to give his name, not openly and definitely not in a place like this, where the crooked and the lowest of the low gathered. But he knew an easy way to get around that.

So, with barely contained amusement, he purposefully asked, "Isn't Sumi a girl name?"

A dead silence seeped into the room, eyes moving from Hiro to the man, both dreading and eager to see his response.

They weren't disappointed. Though, instead of lashing out with fists or words, as was expected, the man's face went slack, neutral and expressionless. His eyes, never straying from Hiro, were dead and focused. The teenager gulped loudly, purposefully slipping when he tried to scramble back and away; what he didn't mean to do was have his bot slip from his hold when he fell, rolling to a stop when it made contact with the man's foot.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't- it's not..." He apologized, not making eye contact and reaching for his bot.

Sumi snatched the robot just as Hiro's fingertips grazed the thing, holding it up to the light as he scrutinized the spherical shape and overall design. "What kind of bot is this?"

"It... um, it's one I designed, well, myself," Hiro explained, not taking his eyes off his bot. "I, uh, call him... Babymax and, yeah, so," He reached out once again. "if I could ju-"

" _Babymax?_ "

Hiro tried his hardest not to get angry at the obvious insult in the man's tone, or the unpleasant laughter that rang out after it, and keep in character. So, instead of jumping forward and tackling the man like he wanted, he cowered. Cowered and pretended like he was having second thoughts.

Seeing this, Sumi gave him a hard look, tossing Babymax (Hiro barely managed to catch the bot in time before it made contact with the ground) and turning away, "Maybe it's time the _babies_ went home, eh?"

"N-no, give me a-a chance," he stammered, patting his oversized jacket, searching, before bringing out a wad of cash (he would return it to the swear jar in the lab later, he promised). "P-please, I have money. I can fight."

Sumi paused, eyeing the cash, before giving a thin smile. "Okay, little boy, one fight- let's see what you've got."

He sat down, hands braced on his knees, and watched as Hiro did the same; soon, both parties money was in the pot, and the crowd had settled back a bit. The teenager eyed those around him, not at all liking their smug smiles and too bright eyes. There were even a few that he recognized, having put them behind bars in his future.

"Go easy on me, please- it's my first time," he said meekly, hunching his shoulders when the man and the people outright laughed, too open in how pathetic they thought him. "I'm still learning."

Sumi grinned wider, giving Hiro a good look at his crooked, yellow teeth. "Oh, you'll be learning soon enough, kid."

A woman with a permanent stink eye walked forward, halting any future conversation. She opened a parasol, twirling it between them.

"Bots ready?"

Hiro stammered out something unintelligible, causing another wave of laughter. He gently rolled Babymax into the ring, where it stopped in front of another bot that looked to be a hybrid of a lobster and a turtle.

With a flick of a switch Babymax activated. Two stub legs had it teetering in place while two broad arms erupted from both sides. A small head lifted out from its top, two black eyes blinking slowly from where they were centered, taking in its surroundings with an almost cool exterior. Hiro, not wanting people to think of the best of his bot, thus betting against it, had given it a mediocre paintjob; the red was bright but uneven, drawing attention to the haphazardly drawn lightning bolts running down its sides and the giant '6' brandished on its chest. Overall, not very menacing- especially when compare to the opponent's bot.

Yoshi, as Sumi declared the bot's name boisterously, came to life within seconds, zeroing its red eyes on Babymax as it lifted its claw hands, their base twirling and opening dangerously.

Hiro watched as the last bets were placed- none made in his favor- and nodded. He looked back at Sumi as the woman retracted the parasol, calling the fight to start, and tried to smother the smug look that was beginning to bleed through.

Sumi raised his brows before angling them downward, both confused and displeased at why Hiro was no longer cowering. The man raised a stubby thumb and messed with a small joystick, clicking a series of buttons with his other. Yoshi started moving forward, clawed arm pulled back to strike.

The genius could hear the collective intake of breath from the audience, all too ready for a massacre. He cleared his face, opting one of unconcern, and leveled a look at Yumi, feeling far too nostalgic about the deja vu of it all.

"Babymax." Hiro began as he twirled his controller in his hands, its center flipping to reveal more controls, far more advanced than those of his opponent's. He allowed a sly smile, seeing the sinking realizations start to dawn on Sumi. "Destroy."

* * *

The lights turning off in Tadashi’s room was the first sign that something was terribly wrong.

GoGo blinked away the sleep that had been slowly taking over her consciousness. The machines in the room kept on with their beeping, unaffected by the strange power outage that had left the lights dead. Occasional flickering came from overhead, casting eerie shadows onto Tadashi's face.

Scrutinizing the machines, GoGo decided that they weren't in any trouble of suddenly going off like the lights. A quick search convinced her that Tadashi looked to be stable as well, his breathing sounding calm when she leaned in close. That was a relief.

Opening the door with a soft _click_ , she peeked out into the hallway. There wasn't anyone there, not even the occasional doctor or janitor covering the night shift. The shadows swallowed both ends of the hallway, save for a soft light coming from some older-looking, hanging lights. It resembles something out of a horror movie, having ample crevices where a possible serial killer could be lurking (not that Gogo was afraid of those things, just wary). And, okay, it was a bit creepy, with everything suddenly so quiet and empty but-

And then she heard it. It was faint, almost too quiet to properly identify. But, eventually, her mind caught up with her senses.

Roller blades, gliding along the smooth surface of a tile floor.

All at once her drowsiness disappeared, the survival-based part of her brain active and beginning its frantic running. There was no way a doctor would be skating around- it had to be against dress code, a lack of professional attitude or something.

It couldn't be _them_... Could it?

There was only one way to find out and she couldn't do it sitting idly in a dark room. Despite the nagging, non-risk taking voice in her head adamantly telling her to back off and wait for help (because where had exploring and sticking her nose where it didn’t belong gotten her in the past week?), she had to investigate.

Getting one last look of the boy lying on the hospital bed, GoGo squeezed her body through the door, shutting it behind her. Keeping herself pressed against the wall, she made her way down the hall as quietly and as quickly as she dared. The lights flickered again, the buzzing and her breath all she could hear.

GoGo was only four rooms down when her earlier hunch was solidified.

She spotted a camera peeking at her on the ceiling, cracked, the shattered lense pieces littering all over the floor below it. GoGo glanced about, spotting no one, and picked up a shard. It looked like it had been smashed. Definitely not normal. Now openly searching, she discovered more cameras in the connecting hallways that seemed to have been broken in a similar manner, one or two even covered in black paint.

Just as she was thinking that she had to get back to Tadashi’s room and fast, the sound of spinning wheels came from somewhere behind her.

A girlish laugh rang out, echoing through the halls, but still sounding like it came from right next to her. GoGo spun around to face whatever came at her and-

The crook of an elbow came out of nowhere and slammed into her throat, knocking her backwards. She slid on her butt before rolling in a backwards somersault, head banging against the unforgiving ground.

Coughing, she sat up.

The first thing GoGo saw past the black spots in her vision was the feminine figure skating circles around her. Dressed in a short kimono and sporting a geisha-like appearance, she gave GoGo a sweet smile. The spiked bat in the woman's hands looked heavy and dangerous and _a little too close to her face_.

"I thought you said you took care of everyone?" Her voice was high and bubbly.

"I did," was the monotone reply, reminding GoGo of Baymax despite the higher pitch, which sounded out from behind her. The Korean girl spun around and angled her head up (and up and up and up) to take in the second woman who had silently appeared behind her without her knowing. She was dressed similarly, her brown kimono looking dull in comparison to the other's bright red; the only difference was the eyepatch, covering the woman's left eye while her other zeroed in on GoGo.

Thinking it was her best move, GoGo kept silent. They hadn't acknowledge her, talking about her like she was some scared, dimwitted civilian- which was fine by GoGo, as they wouldn't bother to filter anything. Let them think she was no threat, it would only give her more leverage.

Another girl, this on in blue, popped out, looking even younger than the other two, and responded to the tallest's statement. "Doesn't look like it." She joined the other the two and circled around GoGo as well, twirling a parasol in her grip.

The tallest one scowled, but was interrupted before she could respond.

"Oh! Can we play with her?" The girl who had hit GoGo looked far too excitable to 'play,' cuddling her bat despite the nails protruding out of it. "It'll be quick, I promise! Then we can-"

GoGo figured the tallest was the leader, easily putting the excitable one in line. "Job first, _then_ you can play all you want."

At those words, GoGo's heart dropped, all her worst fears coming true. Out of everyone within the mafia, it _had_ to be the Fujitas; what with their reputation on the streets, even the high end criminals were fearful. To speak badly about them was to get an unpleasant visit that left whoever either dead or worse.

And they were after Tadashi, that was obvious- and slightly absurd the more she thought about it. There was no way the unconscious boy was dangerous or incredibly important to the Fujitas. But why else would they, infamous criminals, be here in the dead of night?

And, by relations, why else would she do what she was about to do? Endanger her life and entertain assassins.

Oh boy, she really was going to regret this.

"When did Yama start letting his pets off their leash?" Gogo asked, tone crude. She paused, watching the scary, tall one's mouth curl in the beginning of an angry snarl; she could work with this temper, make her job all the easier. "Or is it your first time out of the cage?"

That piqued their interest, surprised that GoGo said their boss's name without so much a hint of fear. Then came the realization that she, a regular civilian, had insulted them. As their expressions cleared and, in the case of the tall one, became taken over by anger, GoGo found that her ploy for a distraction had succeeded.

The one in blue opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by the tall one, fury in her eyes.

"Aji, she's all yours."

The excited Fujita, or Aji, cheered when the consent was given, looking like Christmas had come early (didn't she care that GoGo insulted her not even a second ago?). She smiled a cheshire grin before breaking from the circle and charging to GoGo. She swung her bat like a professional, GoGo's head deemed the ball.

The short girl tensed up, rolling away from the swing. It shattered a window, glass raining down on them all.

Gogo crouched down, angling her head down and away from the dangers of broken glass, and swept the girl’s feet (wheels?) right from underneath her. It was her favorite and most practiced move- so practiced that she didn’t even need to think when she adjusted her balance and sprung from her crouch and into a full out sprint.

Hearing the Fujitas follow, she became relieved. Tadashi was forgotten, her being the center of their attention for now.

She got past a line of wheelchairs before she tripped. She looked down, lashing out instinctively at whatever grabbed at her ankle, only to freeze. It was the foot of a man, a security guard by the dress, who was propped against a pile of chairs. He was unconscious- or, at least, she hoped so.

Getting to her feet, she surveyed the man closely. After a second of anxious waiting, there was the small rise and fall of breathing.

How many people had been taken care like the guard? Were they alright, all of them just unconscious? And the receptionist, Maggie, was she-

The girl with the parasol appeared out of nowhere, swinging her weapon at GoGo's face, barely missing it.

Forced to retreat back by the entourage of attacks that kept coming one after another, GoGo looked around desperately, noting that she was losing ground. She spotted something on the ground and, without another thought, grabbed at it, brandishing it as a weapon.

She had to repress her groan, because, of course it was just her luck to have grabbed a useless flashlight.

Well, she thought, might as well use it. It was better than nothing.

It was to both her and the parasol girl's surprise when she parried a blow, almost knocking the thin umbrella onto the floor, with the common household appliance. Gogo, suddenly more confident, began on the offense, warming up to the weight of the flashlight. She gained some of her lost footing, pushing her opponent back this time around.

If she could handle the Fujitas, then the street talk was starting to turn into nothing more than that, street talk.

Her judgement of their skills skyrocketed when the parasol girl twirled and let loose a spin kick. Almost immediately she slid into another attack, and GoGo was once again forced to backtrack, more kicks and punches following in a fast succession. When the Korean girl wasn't fast enough to parry, she received some painful hits from her shin guards.

She wasn't weak, unable to a take a hit or two. Kickboxing wasn't martial arts, but it was just as good of a substitute.

Slipping past a punch, GoGo struck out, only for the Fujita to easily sidestep it. When that didn't make its mark, she stepped closer, catching the parasol as it came at her, and dug her knee into the girl's side. She continued to pull the girl towards her, trying to successfully get her in a headlock, but the Fujita hooked her feet under hers.

They fell to the floor in a tangled mess, each struggling to the upper hand. In retaliation to a jab in the ribs, GoGo gave a solid punch to the girl's side. Just as she was pulling her fist back for another punch, she was shoved away, skates uncomfortably pressed against her stomach.

A bat came down between them, barely missing Gogo's legs.

"Aji! Watch it!"

With another swing, the bat came down once more, its holder taking no notice of the scolding reminder. Gogo dropped her only weapon, yanking her hand back before it was smashed along with the flashlight. Already she could feel the sting of a long scratch, that went from her knuckles to the middle of her forearm, where the nails had raked her.

The Fujita offered a halfhearted apology to her fallen comrade, charging before the other could even say another word. "Whoops."

GoGo crawled to a wheelchair as they bickered and kicked it towards her attacker. It crashed into GoGo’s target, sending the squealing girl tumbling over the chair and face first onto the floor. The Fujita’s weapon clattered to the floor, pushed in her direction by one of the wheels. GoGo lunged for it, desperate in her scrambling.

Jeez, it was a lot heavier than it looked, needing both her hands to lift it. How was she supposed to use it if she could barely get it off the ground?

She opted to throw the bat at the parasol Fujita with all her might, the girl having to skate to the side and straight into another wheelchair to avoid it.

Two down, one to go-

She ducked the ball and chain that sailed over her head.

"Stay still," the leading Fujita commanded, twirling her weapon in a menacing arch. She threw the ball again, eyebrows furrowing when Gogo dodged again.

"Oh, yeah, totally," she grounded out, wiping some sweat and dust from her face. The fight had only just started and she was already feeling the effects- she needed to get her act together because that was unacceptable. "Because you asked so nicely."

She spotted the blue kimono wearing girl start to stumble back to her feet, frowning when she realized one of her wheeled feet were stuck to the wheelchair. Gogo lunged away from the spike ball that threatened to smash her head wide open and toward the fallen girl. Ripping the parasol out of the Fujita's grip, GoGo ducked under the chain and swung. From the sound it made hitting the tallest Fujita's cheek, GoGo would thought the papery umbrella would've shattered. But no, it stayed whole while the Fujita's head snapped to the side.

Her opponent was pushed back and off balance, giving Gogo ample time to grab the chain and slide right underneath the tallest girl's open legs and around her. She watched in satisfaction as the woman's legs effortlessly tangled themselves. Grabbing the spiked ball (wincing when spikes dug into her skin, but never letting go), she pulled as hard as she could and the chains tightened around the woman and had her toppling forward. Not that Gogo herself stayed upright, the force of her own pull causing her to slip and fall as well.

Gogo hurriedly picked herself up and ran, around a corner and straight into the east wing. She dodged into an alcove housing a safety shower, quickly pulling out her cell. She dialed and put the phone to her ear, muttering, "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..."

Her prayers were answered with a monotone: "9-1-1, what's your emerg-?"

"There's an attack going on at Aiku Center!" she interrupted in a passionate whisper, taking a quick look around the corner. She didn’t have time for the niceties, not when there were woman skating about to take her out. The quicker the police came, the quicker GoGo would have backup and the safer Tadashi would be. "There's three of them, all woman, dressed in kimonos and rollerskates. They have weapons."

The woman, thankfully, shared the same professional attitude, getting straight to business in a heartbeat. "The police and emergency squads have been notified and dispatched." Her mellow voice put Gogo on edge, too distant in an all too real situation. Whether or not it was supposed to be calming in high-tense situations, GoGo was too strung for it to be any help. "Now, if you would remain calm and stay in one place until-"

"Yeah, I’m so not staying here. And if you really think I'd do that, you're just as crazy as those bi-" Gogo jerked back with a surprise yell, a spiked ball crashing into the wall inches from her face. Plaster erupted everywhere as the chain pulled it back, catching Gogo in the shoulder and launching her sideways, out of her hiding spot.

"What was that?" The woman asked, fritzing voice coming from where her phone had been thrown on the floor. “Miss? Miss, I need to know what happened and that you’re alright.”

Gogo rolled to her feet and snatched her phone before sprinting away. She spotted three different splashed of color to her right, and gaining speed. Turning down a corridor, she fled from the advancing Fujitas.

"Come out and play!" Even she had to admit that the ending giggle was a bit creepy, echoing through the halls, giving GoGo no inclination where the other Fujita was. No longer was it full of sweetness, a hint of deranged anger under the layers of false cheer.

GoGo must have finally showed them she wasn't someone to mess with either.

"They found me," she informed the operator, spotting the large crack running down the length of her screen (and she had just gotten a new one after the mountain bike incident). "I... ah, jeez...." She grimaced, pain flaring in her shoulder, "I hafta go."

"Wait- No! Miss, you have to stay on the phone with me! It’s imperative that-!"

But Gogo had already ended the call and started running down the hall, stumbling right through a wet floor sign. Glancing back, she saw the glaring face of the tallest Fujita greeted her (she didn't know whether to be glad or apprehensive that it wasn't the excited one).

Oh man, did she wish she still had that bat.

She made it to a large hall, tables and chairs taking up the entirety of its space, and closed the double doors behind her. Back against the door, she reached for a chair, fingers just grazing the back of it when a force slammed into her, making her stumble. She braced her shoulder against the door, desperately pulling the chair towards her.

As the Fujita slammed into it with a scream, GoGo was shoved back from the force, hastily returning to her position (her shoulder was going to have a field day when this was over). After more hits from the woman, and some she assumed that came from the spiked ball, it stopped.

That was... not good.

Backing away from the doors, GoGo froze, expecting something to come crashing through. Then slowly she came close to the door, pressing her ear against it.

Muffled voices barely made it through the doors and to her ears, but she could tell that there was now more than one person on the other side. She strained to hear what they were saying, wondering why they had stopped attacking, only to hear the sound of wheels rolling away.

They were leaving.

GoGo frowned, confused.

They had been so close to breaking down the door, the wood splintering in more than one place. Gogo would be a sitting duck once that obstacle was gone. Sure, she would have put up a fight, maybe thrown a chair or two, but, in the end, it wouldn't have mattered. It wouldn't have had mattered because Gogo was exhausted and at her limit, while they went on, persistent and fueled by a hate fire that never seemed to diminish. So why had they retreated?

The answer came barreling in a few seconds later, like a punch in the face. Unannounced and merciless.

She'd locked herself in here for them, leaving them to quit their 'game.'

It was only then, spotting a color coded map framed on the wall, that she realized that she'd gone a full circle around the hospital; she was now back in the same wing that Tadashi was. Something in her gut twisted and she desperately struggled to open the distorted door, having to smash a chair into the handle to get it to limp open. She stumbled out, momentarily lost and unsure which way Tadashi's room was.

She was running again, this time with no attacking woman on her heels. When had her life resulted in so much running and chasing?

Three turns and a one backtrack later, she spotted them. On the opposite end of the hall were two of the Fujitas, skating toward Tadashi's room. They strolled at a leisure pace, apparently unconcerned about time and whose life they were unceremoniously about to end. That had Gogo boiling in anger.

As she passed a vacant cart, she grabbed a clipboard and threw it at one if the Fujita's head. She didn't break her sprint, not balking when they turned to glare at her and lifted their weapons in a promise of violence. Because, before she knew it, she had passed the criminals.

“Just try it,” GoGo hissed, skidding to a halt in front of the familiar door and spreading her arms out as means of a barrier.

There was no way she was going to let them through the door.

The excited one, still smiling like she had not a care in the world, stepped forward, brandishing her bat.

"It'd be in your best interest to get out of the way while you can still walk," the parasol girl said behind her comrade, looking like she didn't care if GoGo moved or not. She didn't even seem to be angry at GoGo, just bored.

GoGo didn't budge."Over my dead body."

The girl shrugged, uncaring. "If the universe commands it."

So ardent and focused on her new role as an immovable wall, blood rushing through her ears, she didn't notice the loud wails of sirens or the colored lights shining through the windows down the hall until one of them spoke up.

“Leave her! The cops are here!” The tallest came skating through, suddenly looking angrier than when GoGo had last seen her. When the perky one didn't look to be moving, the tall one jerked her arm, none too gently. "We go, _now_."

The two Fujitas backed off, the perky one leaving with a cute wave and a promise to play again. With one last scowl, the tallest backed away from GoGo and followed her companions, but not before hissing, "Don't think you'll get off this easy."

Keeping on her poker face, GoGo didn't show an inch of fear at their less than obvious threat. Not even when the women left did she relax, expecting a surprise attack of some kind.

They didn't come back.

GoGo sighed in relief, letting her body slide to the floor. Reveling in the feeling of air filling her lungs, she rested her head against the door and closed her eyes.

While she waited for the police her body filled her in on just how much of a miracle it was that she wasn't dead. She was sore all over, like she'd just run a marathon; with the adrenaline finally leaning her system, there was nothing to numb the pain. By the morning, there would be bruises and other injuries she hadn't felt yet to nurse, making her groan for her upcoming pain.

 _But_ , her mind whispered, _you survived_.

It sounded so simple. Like dealing with crazy, violent geisha women was simple. But she had and she'd won, effectively saving one of her best friend's life.

There was no doubt that this wasn't over. The Fujitas would come back to finish what they started (maybe even try and get some revenge), the fight just beginning. Gogo was bound to be on their hit list now, fighting with Tadashi for first place. Things were only going to get crazier from then on.

"Wish you'd wake up, Tadashi." Her fist thumped the door behind her as she mumbled tiredly, "'Cause we're in a whole mess of trouble and I could really use your help."

She sighed, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders and thinking that, eventually, she wouldn't be strong enough to stop it from crushing her.

* * *

The decimated bot landed at the feet of its owner in a mesh of wires and crumbled metal.

Within the stunned silence, all eyes were staring in shock at the center ring with more than one mouth hanging open. Ignoring the stares, Hiro strutted forward to collect the pile of crumpled bills in the collecting pot; it wasn't as much as what he’d won as a kid, but it was a start. He refrained himself from sniggering at his opponent, who was cradling his bot like a lost child.

"What a game," he said, swooping down and picking up Babymax. His bot had reverted back to its dormant state with a single flick of a switch, sphere body perfectly fitting into the crook of his elbow.

"What just... how did you- I lost?" The audience went dead silent as Hiro's opponent talked, muscles on his arms tensing. "You... beat me...?"

Feigning innocence, Hiro shrugged, "Pure luck."

"Luck had nothing to do with it." The man snapped suddenly, eyes going bloodshot. His tight grip on his bot increased, becoming too much as the thing’s leg broke off and fell to the dirty floor. "You cheated me!"

Hiro didn’t answer him, instead brushing off Babymax’s plating with his sleeve.

Suddenly, Sumi’s face was invading his personal space, jaw tense and neck veins bulging. The front of Hiro's jacket was soon fisted in the man’s grasp, pulling and lifting him off his feet. His bot was forced out of his hands, his two appendages not able to catch it, but rather finding it more productive to clutch at the choke-hold he was undergoing. “No one messes with Sumi!”

But Hiro was having none of that. He grabbed onto the larger man’s wrists and heaved his lower half forward, right knee coming up to smash into the other’s chin. Twisting out of the weakened grip, Hiro fell to the floor, scooping up Babymax as he straightened.

“I think it’s high time I left- see new sights, meet new people- you understand, don’t you?” Hiro said, breathing calm as he watched Sumi stumble forward, clutching his nose. He turned, fully intent on leaving, "Well, see yo-"

Hiro sidestepped the man who was aiming to grab him from behind, shoving him forward and tumbling into the other thugs. Sumi was pushed back, his own thugs trapping him in the middle of their little flailing mob, spitting and cursing all the while.

Then Hiro was off, leisurely walking out the ring and with his head held high. No one tried to stop him this time, parting before him as if they were hydrophobic and he a drop of water.

Onto the next fight- to his next scam.

He had other people to swindle, bots to destroy, and money to win before the night was through.

* * *

 

For whatever reason, no one was speaking to GoGo. There were countless officers milling about in the lobby, the lights from their cars shining through the windows and glass doors of the hospital. And yet, with the number of police, none were driving of in the direction the Fujitas had headed. Instead, they mingled about the hospital lobby, useless.

They talked and discussed of looking for evidence, but that was a waste of time and she had half a mind to tell them so. There was a reason the Fujitas and their partnered organizations were considered the best of the best, so well-known yet still remaining uncaught and uncharged.

The only good thing that came out of it was that in her time of waiting and sitting around she’d managed to find a stick of gum in one of her pockets. That, and the fact that her arm was being tended to by a medical practitioner (though she could do without the safety blanket).

After the first couple of tries to demand that they listen to her, only to be met with deaf ears and adamant commands to stay put and stay quiet, GoGo opted to quit. Not only did their attitudes make her angry, but she felt some anxiety start to form.

Had they already caught the women- the Fujitas? If they did, then what were they going to do with them? Was the receptionist- Maggie- fine? Were any of the other patients hurt because of the attack? What about Tadashi? Was he okay?

She wasn't allowed back into the hospital to check.

Now that she had time to let her adrenaline sink down and think over everything that had happened tonight, she realized it was a miracle nothing had gone seriously wrong. The collateral damage was intense, but mainly condensed within the hallways. She had been careful to keep it that way.

Just as she was debating whether or not to march over to a group of officers and demand she get some answers, two broke off and headed in her direction. She watched them, the lines of their faces dramatized by the flashing lights and what she assumed was the seriousness of the situation.

One of the police officers turned toward Gogo, looming over her, appearing more like the tough and incorruptible law enforcement in most films. "Would you please come with me, Miss?"

"Why?" The other stayed in the shadow of the first, hands clasped together. She frowned, "Shouldn't you be catching some criminals or something?"

"I think it'd be best if we leave the questions until later... back at the station."

Suspicion flared within Gogo at the man's tone. She wasn't at all liking how this conversation was going. And what was with the other cop, all silent and intimidating? "I want some answers before I go anywhere."

"It wasn't a request." Hands came to rest on his hips, fingers curling into his belt loops, when he saw her pinched face. "Look, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way."

Rebellion she hadn't felt since her father had taken away her bike privileges when she was ten coursed through her. She widened her stance, noting the tension that arose in his shoulders when she did so, and folded her arms over her chest. Teeth bit down on tongue instead of gum, igniting a small burst of pain, but she ignored it, her focus entirely on showing this man her displeasure through her narrowed eyes and a curled upper lip.

The policeman assessed her, letting out a tired sigh before reaching behind him and unclipping something from his belt. They were a pair of handcuffs. "I'm sorry Miss, but... you have the right to remain silent, everything you do or say..." He continued the list of rights, finishing off with a "You're under arrest."

She nearly choked on her gum. "Excuse me?"

* * *

 

It was early in the morning when Honey Lemon’s phone rang.

She was fiddling with her cell phone, scrutinizing a photo as she went from one filter to another. Pursing her lips, she couldn't decide between two, barely a shade apart but a huge difference all the same.

Momentarily glancing at kitchen entryway from her couch, she wondered how her cookies were faring. They were going to be delicious, she knew, but only if she made care to take them out in _exactly_ three and a half minutes.

Just as she was considering making some brownies (Fred loved those) or maybe some snickerdoodles (a personal favorite), her phone rang. When she saw the familiar caller ID photo pop up on her screen- a disgruntled Korean girl wearing pink- she smiled.

"GoGo!" she squealed, delighted, leaning back in her chair. She hadn't heard from her friend since their shopping trip two days earlier, which had left the girl mysteriously gloomy. “How ar-?”

"I need you to come to the police station."

"The police station...? I don’t under- No! GoGo!" Honey gasped, jerking up in her seat, hunching forward before whispering reverently, a slight scold to her tone, " _Again?_ ” She passed the phone to her other hand, pressing it firmly against her ear as she stood up. “What happened this time?"

There was a growl at the other end of the line. "I didn't do anything! It's not- oh, I'm not going to explain this right now! Just come and get me!"

“I will, I will!” Honey Lemon raced to her room and grabbed the clothes neatly folded on her bed and scurried back into the main room. “Though I’ll never understand how you can get yourself into such trouble. I swear, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you go looking for it.”

“For the last time, I wasn-”

Honey Lemon pulled the phone away from her ear, quickly tying her hair into a messy bun, before returning it.

“-ad it coming. Plus, if I- _Hey, will you quit it! I’m talking here_ -"

There was some commotion on Gogo's end, the lower voices of strangers muffled and indistinguishable. Gogo's own voice was clear as day, her choice of words making Honey wince; her friend really had some colorful vocabulary, putting any sailor from the docks to shame.

" _No, I’m not done- ugh, okay- fine! I said fine!_ Honey, I gotta go, they’re saying my times up.”

“Alright, you hang in there. And don’t you worry,” she assured her friend, shrugging on a jacket and fumbling with her shoes, the hard heels clacking against her wood floor. The tall girl almost knocked over a vase full of daisies- a present from Fred- off the table in her haste. “I’ll be there before you can say 'butterscotch.'”

There was a pause, before she heard a curt, “Butterscotch.”

Then the line went dead.

Honey was sure GoGo was going to do something completely insane one day, something like speeding down San Fransokyo's Lombard street (a street so steep and curvy it gave the girl a headache just thinking about it), that no amount of sweet talk and smiles from Honey would be enough to bail her out.

 _Ding!_ The high pitched sound, resonating from her kitchen, interrupted her thoughts.

Her cookies.

"Oh... uh...." Biting her lip, Honey Lemon glanced between the door and the kitchen. She could see her cookies- perfect in every way, shape, and form- in the oven, the light inside it giving them a godly glow.

No, she needed to go and go now. Gogo needed her.

But… they’d _burn_.

The thought of all her hard work and waiting going to waste had Honey quickly shuffling to her kitchen. Unafraid of the wave of heat from the oven, she adorned her oven mitts and took out her cookies, grabbing a spatula with her free hand. In one swift motion, she had dumped freshly baked goods onto a platter and haphazardly wrapped it in plastic wrap. Just as she was about to take it and go, she stopped, unsure. It was a going to be a mess when she got there. Was she sure about what she was doing?

No, no she wasn't.

In a mad rush, she grabbed her scissors from the counter. After one snip, she deftly and swiftly tied a pink ribbon around her platter, topping it with a perfect bow.

Then she rushed out her apartment, grabbing her keys and purse on the way, the door sliding shut behind her.

* * *

Hiro was lounging on the lower level of a fire escape, counting his winnings, when he overheard the conversation.

"Did you hear?" Hiro leaned forward to peer down at the two men who had taken shelter under his spot. One wore a hood that obscured most of his face except for his lips, which sported a piercing. The other was too close to the building for Hiro to get a good look.

"Hear what?"

The next line was a whisper, "Yama's flower girls are on a job."

Hiro raised both eyebrows, interest piqued; anything that sounded remotely shady and mafia-related was destined to be important. He cocked his head for better hearing, stuffing the money in his pockets and shrugging his jacket on.

There was a spark as one of them lit a match. Smoke rose up and swirled about the third party, stinging his eyes (it had him on edge; where there was smoke, there was fire...).

"You don't say..." The shadow said, the end of a cigarette illuminating his basic features; too large a nose with set eyebrows.

"Yeaup, on it right now." Hooded man looked over his shoulder. "At that one hospital- you know, the prissy looking one. Well, apparently they're taking care of some patient there." He shrugged. "Not sure why they're bothering, heard he was in a coma or something,- burned too- won't be waking up anytime soon."

Hiro froze, panic constricting his chest.

"Well, no good can come of it- woman assassins," the other scoffed, taking a long drag. "Only an idiot would willingly be a part of that mess."

The one with the information eyed his companion, the short pause indicating that he wanted to say something, but he simply shook his head in sympathy. "Feel bad for the poor sucker stuck dealing with them."

That was enough for Hiro. Eyes narrowed as he analyzed and calculated his next actions, pulling his hood further over his head. He wasn’t just going to sit by, only hearing the scraps these men were serving him.

Taking a deep, quiet breath, he inched forward, steadying himself on the bars as he slunk through the railing and let himself fall.

Hiro's grunt as he toppled onto the hooded man was nearly drowned by the yell of surprise, calling out desperately for his companion, who took it upon himself to beat it without so much as a moment's hesitation.

A scuffle ensued. The hooded man elbowed Hiro in the face, somehow slithering out of his grasp despite his long and bony frame. He only got a few feet before Hiro tackled him to the floor again; the man twisted in Hiro’s grip, almost breaking the teen’s nose with a well-placed kick. Hiro braced a forearm against the other's neck, effectively stopping any further squirming.

"You're going to tell me everything you know about the Fujitas." His voice was like steel, the thought of Tadashi potentially being in danger making his anger rise.

Having no patience for the silent treatment, Hiro pressed his weight on the stranger's throat and pulled down his hood. He was greeted with a young face, younger than expected- he looked a little older than his friends (the current timeline’s). Eyes as large as saucers, calling attention to the stud in his left eyebrow, looked back at him, while his chest heaved out uneven breaths.

"Now," Hiro stared intently into the other's eyes, not letting the fact that the person he was interrogating was taller than him. "Let's talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters just keep getting longer and longer.


	8. Lively Dreams

Fred was in a glorious mood as he made his way down the streets of San Fransokyo, without a care in the world. Passing under the bridge exactly as the metro line rushed by, he wasn’t bothered by the deafening sound. He breathed it all in, the waking city and its less than appealing smell (fish tacos and salt was somewhere in there).

Even though the trolleys could take him to his destination quicker, he opted to walk, his cheery mood giving him more energy than he knew what to do with.

Because it was comic book day.

Well, it was always comic book day, but that wasn't the point- today was the day Heathcliff let him splurge himself (only so that he'd had material that could last him the month). It was all according to an agreement the two created, allowing Fred to go wild while Heathcliff only had to worry about how to maximize the space dedicated for his charge's novels. In the end, that wouldn't even pose a problem, Heathcliff a miracle worker when it came to his job.

No one could come close to his aptitude.

Fred hooked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and skipped over the smudged boxes of a hopscotch drawn onto the asphalt. He even added a cool spin at the end, the Amazing Fred always one to show off his moves.

The store he was headed to wasn’t in the best part of town, not that Fred minded. He was a regular, coming here for more than half of his collection; the amount of money he indulged on this particular store was record breaking, earning him a reputation of sorts in the local comic market. As result of his customer loyalty, he was on a list all of his own- perks and deals others could only dream of, offered solely for him.

Which meant opening and closing hours didn’t apply to him.

There wasn’t anyone out on the street as far as Fred could see, but that wasn’t unusual. It was early morning and not many people were ecstatic enough about comic books to trek out to the specific comic shop. But Fred didn’t mind. He actually enjoyed it, the early hours, and, despite what his friends thought about him and his lifestyle, was usually up anyways. It gave him time to think and go about his life without prying eyes or bearing expectations.

The sight of the comic shop was equivalent to one of the Seven Wonders in Fred's eyes. The cape-wearing heroes that were plastered on the windows were beckoning, drawing all eyes away from the graffiti that covered the walls and the garbage that overflowed the trashcans.

With the usual chime, he entered the Holy Land, breathing in the smell of paper and plastic.

“What’s up, dude.” Fred greeted the clerk, grasping his hand momentarily before asking about any new updates. The pimply teen took a sip of his instant coffee, nodding toward the section nearest to the door, then turned back to his own comic.

The comic enthusiast pillaged the shelf, reading anything that caught his interest thoroughly and piling it beside him to buy when he was done. He stayed there, engrossed, for a good part of the morning; long enough that he could look out the dirty window and spot a couple of people passing by and going about their daily business, and hear the roar of car engines as traffic increased on the narrow street.

The comfortable lull of the morning was broken by screams and sirens.

Fred was just reaching for the latest edition of one his favorite graphic novels when something came crashing through the front window, landing in a mess on what used to be a comic display rack.

The clerk screamed, spitting out his coffee and spilling the rest on the cash register, backing away from the bursting glass. Comic books fell from the shelves, Fred getting overwhelmed by a landslide of them as he hit the wall in surprise. He went down with another rack, the spines of volumes painfully landing on his head.

Fred resurfaced a mere second after everything had settled, mouth gasping for breath. Heart beating erratically, he was about to call out and see what had happened when there was a flurry of movement and more comic books were flying.

One hit Fred in the face.

“Ow!” He rubbed his nose, eyes screwed shut momentarily. Though blue eyes snapped open when he heard the sound of metal hitting metal and laughter. Still rubbing his red nose, he crawled over comics and toward the front of the shop, apprehensive. He crouched next to the counter, peeking through the window.

Fear transformed into excitement at what he saw. He was suddenly happier than he had been this morning- so ecstatic- no, _thrilled_.

Because there, in all its armored glory, was a full fledged superhero not ten feet away from him.

Granted, the superhero was getting his butt handed to him by a group of- Fred squinted, leaning precariously out the now broken window- white-faced women dressed in traditional japanese wear and rollerskates (none of his comics had ever had villains like that). But that didn't matter- it was a superhero nonetheless.

He watched as the hero fought with one holding an umbrella, hands moving in way that deflected the helpful-device-turned-dangerous-weapon and had him pushing past the girl’s guard. His stance depicted training of some sort (martial arts, maybe?)- something Fred knew nothing of. The hero ducked under a bat, jabbing at the girl swinging it and aiming a kick at the umbrella girl at the same time.

Fred was still bathing in the glory that his comic books were finally coming to life when the hero was blasted back into the store. He soared over Fred's head and landed next to the- was that a mailbox? There was another shriek from the clerk at the resulting mess, a cacophony of sounds making Fred cover his ears.

A low groan sounded out of the figure as he pushed himself to his elbows, shoving the mailbox away and skidding against the ground.

The comic nerd immediately went to the downed hero, pulling the piles of comics out of the way before grasping the figure’s bicep and helping pull him up and out of the ruble, almost falling forward from the unexpected weight. There was a dent on the man’s chest, the sight of it making Fred wince, only guessing at how painfully it must’ve been.

“Dude, I love your work.” Fred wasn’t able to hide the awe and eagerness in his voice, needing to express his fanboy desires despite the situation. It was only after the words came out of his mouth that he realized he sounded like a jerk; the dent and the millions of deep scratches he was rapidly discovering on the armor should’ve given him an idea at how hurt the guy was. Superheroes were people too (except when they were aliens- then they were aliens).

The mysterious hero jerked back when he heard Fred, foot slipping on a stack of plastic covers. Fred hastily grabbed his arm, stabling him with a: "Whoa there, dude."

They stood there, staring at each other (if this were his comics, this would've been the part where a partnership between heroes would have be made and honored). Fred was only able to see his own face staring right back at him, his reflection in the hero's visor dirty and disheveled and wide eyed, but grinning nonetheless. Never before in his wildest fantasies did he think he'd ever come face-to-face with an actual superhero (and he didn't even need Heathcliff's help), but there he was, living the dream.

Realizing that he was being super creepy, Fred looked away and over the hero’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of a woman racing towards the shop from down the street. How was he just starting to see the spikes that were nailed into her bat? Following his line of sight, the hero turned and saw the woman; he pushed Fred back and away from him, defensively standing between him and the oncoming threat.

Looked like there little moment was over, to Fred's disappointment.

A hand rose and tapped the side of his helmet, making Fred’s breath hitch. Was he going to unmask? Right there, in front of him? But no, that was not the case. Instead of the visor flipping up and revealing the mystery hero’s face, the sound of static reached Fred’s ears before it was replaced by a voice, young and low and oddly familiar. “Stand back.”

It took a moment for Fred to realize that he was being addressed. When he did he looked around needlessly, “Me?... Oh! Oh, yeah, totally. Do your thing.”

Fred did what was requested, watching as the hero stepped forward and raised a gloved hand. He tried not to cry when he saw the tendril of electricity spark from the hero’s gloves, shoving his fist in his mouth to contain himself. Whatever the guy had, it was some serious tech (awesome)- the inventions at SFIT wouldn’t have been able to compete with what Fred was seeing.

“Holy mother of Megazon, that’s so cool.” Fred’s voice rose higher than usual despite it being a whisper.

Then the man was gone, launching through the window and back into the street. Fred, ignoring the small voice at the back of his head that screamed of safety and logic, followed; he needed to see this, to see the hero in action.

Outside was utter chaos.

People screamed, trying to find shelter and shield themselves from the destruction taking place. Chairs that looked to be from a local, rundown cafe, were overturned, becoming tripping hazards to those trying to get away. To his left, a lamppost was bending forward, leaning and pulling on a couple of electrical wires, their ends snapping precariously close to the ground. A police car or two were making their way down the stretch of the road, slowly weaving their way around panicked civilians (when had so many people congregated?). A pool of water was forming on the uneven street, rushing out of a busted fire hydrant.

Fred could believe the hero causing this mess- that dude was powerful- but the women? The guy had amazing fighting skills and a cool suit to boot, but the women didn’t seem that dangerous- dressed more for a disco derby than a fight. Albeit, a disco derby that allowed spiked armor and weapons, as well as a prerequisite of martial arts.

The hero noticed Fred in an instant, tossing a chair at a girl before turning to him, though never necessarily turning his back on his opponents, “What are you still doing here?”

Before Fred could answer, something came rushing at his face. He jerked, body already ducking back with a yell, losing balance as his foot slipped on the wet curb. He missed slamming his head on the fire hydrant, but scrambled away as a blaring horn notified him of the car spinning in his direction.

Metal screeched as it was stretched and warped by means of a crash. The fire hydrant exploded, top shooting high up in the air and landing on the hood of a police car. Water spouted out, raining down from the sky, spilling all over Fred. He refrained from squealing because _wow, that was freezing!_

A hand grabbed a hold of his backpack, yanking him away. "You need to leave!"

"Leave?" Fred sputtered, "But what about-"

"Just-" The hero said, stretching out a hand threateningly when one of the women came to close. He ducked under a spiked ball, grabbing it and eliciting a spark of electricity down its conductive chain. The woman attached to it screamed, twitching violently. "Leave! Help people if you can, but you need to leave! Now!"

Instantly, Fred understood what the hero was asking him to do.

“Reduce civilian casualties. Got it.” Fred saluted the hero, becoming serious in a matter of seconds. Without any more prompting, he leaped over the destruction and, made his way back to the shop, his shoes squelching. Spotting the clerk huddling and whimpering in the corner (still nursing his empty coffee cup), he hopped over the counter and heaved the boy to his feet. Despite Fred being the one soaking wet, the teen was shaking. Together, they made their way out of the store and the hazard it proved to be, only to have to deal with the chaos that was the outside.

Despite his stunned state, Fred had trouble getting the clerk past the fight. Eventually, after some gentle prompting and a lot of pushing, he got them passed the raging women. The wreckage proved to be helpful and lifesaving, acting as cover from an incoming projectile more than once.

The hero protected them as much as he could, leading the women away and keeping their attention.

The two boys were welcomed into the arms of the police and crowd of bystanders when they stumbled out of the disaster zone three blocks away, Fred constantly glancing behind him whenever he got the chance. The clerk was taken out of Fred's care, while the playboy himself was pestered by strangers, given supposedly reassuring words and told to sit down and relax.

Questions were asked and there was a loud call for an ambulance; Fred felt claustrophobic with all the bodies pressing against him. So he escaped the hold of strangers and tried to push his way back. It was almost impossible, the masses pushing him away from the fight, where he wanted to go. Nevertheless, he pushed back, slowly making his way to the fight.

But, when he finally was able to sneak past the stationed police and return to the shop, fully intent on forming a bond with the hero, the street was roped off and empty. There wasn't even a trace of the mystery hero and his female adversaries. And no matter how hard Fred looked, skimming the outskirts of the tapped off region, they were nowhere to be found.

When had they vanished? Did the hero win? Was he alright?

The blonde groaned, throwing his body on top of a chalkboard menu in defeat; the Daily Special was smudging on his shirt, but that didn't matter. He had missed out with the hero, he just knew it. Now he had to either wait for another chance to pop up or start an avid search to make for his failure.

With nothing left to do besides walk home, soaked to his soles, Fred only had a story to tell Heathcliff.

* * *

When he arrived at _The Flower Garden_ later that day, Hiro didn't hesitate on entering. He walked purposely past the man in the ticket booth, ignoring how he started and leaned over the window, calling out to the armored teen. He ripped open the door and entered the main compound of the building, instantly noticing the increase in number of bodies that were present since the last time he had been there.

Most were women with painted faces, sharp eyes staring intently at him as he angrily strutted through the rink (disrupting a jam- not that he cared), as if sizing him up; seeing them reminded him of the trio he had fought, his anger rising even further. They lounged around, on scaffoldings, tables, and anywhere else even mildly suitable.

He didn't spot the trio he had fought a mere half hour before. Probably licking their wounds, Hiro figured, and felt a slight swell of pride at the thought.

A few children raced about, seemingly undisturbed about their present setting and company. Men and women with tattoos and piercings mingled about, some tinkering with circuitry and bots, while others were openly sharpening knives and swords of all kinds.

But Hiro really didn’t care about legality at this point.

"Where. Is. _She_." Hiro demanded, punctuating every word, head twisting to glare at anyone willing to look his way, momentarily forgetting that they couldn't see his face because of the armor he wore. No one answered, nor did they question just who he was looking for. Rather, a few of them shifted, the fabric of their assortment of clothes rustling, parting to reveal an elevator door at the other end of the warehouse.

Without another word he stomped over and entered, yanking the scissor gate shut and pulling the lever up with more force than necessary- not before catching one woman's grin as she snapped open a fan, making a half-attempt at a whisper, "This is gonna be good." Then the elevator ascended and his sight of the crowd was swallowed up by the concrete walls surrounding him.

His anger only grew as the elevator groaned and moaned, rusty gears working in overtime just to lift him up a level. When it shuttered to a halt Hiro wrestled to get the gate open, growling like an animal until it finally submitted.

In the back of his mind he took in the fact that he seemed to be walking through some sort of living quarters; mismatched furniture made its home anywhere it could fit, clothes were draped along every surface, and a collection of books with varying degrees of wear and tear dominated the top level of a bunk bed settled in the corner. The more cautious and self-persevering part of him noted on the weapons meticulously placed about, a few traditional _bō_ and _naginata_ spotted in the umbrella stand in the corner. But the rest of his mind zeroed in on the rear section of the room where a single desk resided and a woman sat behind it.

"Well, look who it is," were the first words out of Ren's mouth as he took his stance before her. Boot clad feet settled on the table between them and casually leaning back in her seat, she fiddled with the tablet in her hands, finger swiping at the screen. "The hero of the day."

Anger bubbled up inside him when she didn't even look up, “What do you think you're doing?”

She held up the device in her hands, flipping it so he could see the screen. It showed a headline that read ' _HERO TURNED MENACE, 20 INJURED AND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS WORTH OF PROPERTY DESTROYED_ ', below it an image of him in his tarnished suit and electricity flying around him like a miniature storm- he noticed the significant lack of rollerskating and weapon-wielding women in the picture. "Checking up with the news."

It infuriated him how calm she was. He wanted nothing more than to slap her smile right off (he’d never hit a woman, but he’d also never been prejudiced towards criminals either). GoGo certainly wouldn’t have minded if he did; he liked to think she’d put in a few of her own if she was there with him, patience thin and waning. However, Honey Lemon’s more easy-going personality drifted into his mind and he took a deep breath, trying to be civilized, “What happened out there? No jokes- I’m serious. I want the truth.”

Ren mulled it over, pursing her lips, “I’d say... it was you attacking my girls off the fly.” She offered him a thumbs up, “And then embarrassing yourself on national television. Congrats, _baka_ , that’s not as easy as it looks.”

“I didn’t attack them for no reason,” Hiro grounded out, temper flaring at her casualness. “They attacked first.”

“That's not what I heard,” she told him, pointedly looking at the news article. She flipped the tablet back, typing something out with deft fingers.

Hiro stretched his fingers, itching for something to do- something to hit. "Look, I don't know what you're up to, but-"

"I’m just upholding my end of a deal," Ren interrupted.

"No, no, no. That wasn't what we agreed on!" The teen argued, jabbing an accusing finger in her direction. "All I asked was for you to keep an eye on things and look out for Yokai! That was the deal! There was nothing in there about violence!"

Ren gave him a look, chin lifting. "Don't think yourself so special. You aren't the only person we do business with."

Just as he was going to reply, Hiro stopped, body rigid. "I'm not the only- wait. Who else-" He paused for a moment too long, filling the air with a high strung tension, mind whirling. "Are... are you working for Yokai?"

Ren went still at his dropped tone, suddenly occupied with her tablet, “Now why would we work for a creep like that?”

Suspicion reared up its ugly head, growing within Hiro, "You aren’t…”

“I don't have to tell you who we are and aren’t doing business with.” She snapped suddenly, all trace of calm gone. "We have a partnership, but not a fully disclosed one."

Of all the things…

The Fujitas were working for Callaghan. Hired and paid by the man to ‘take care’ of Tadashi, if only to make sure he didn’t have a chance to tell anyone about the living status of the professor- something he didn’t see or even know of. They were sent to kill his brother. All because of a less than fifty percent chance that Tadashi had maybe seen something in the fire.

And he was in cahoots with them. He was paying them for information- information that they knew because it directly concerned them- wasting his precious time and money. Never before had he felt so stupid, so used.

Hiro’s anger came back (never having actually left in the first place) and he shook, holding back a long list of all the curse words GoGo had ever said within his hearing range. He was so close to letting loose and electrocuting the whole place, uncaring of everyone in it- just so long the woman in front of him went down with it.

He willed his gaze to burn the woman, but still, that wasn’t enough. “Why on earth-”

"Business is business," she told him, expression turning painfully neutral. "No hard feelings."

"No h-" He stopped himself, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth in a last effort to compose himself (nothing seemed to be working, his anger remaining), "You're trying to _kill_ the one guy I jumped into a burning building to _save_. How do you expect me to not be angry about it?"

“I don’t.” Whether or not the information connecting him and the fire was new,the woman didn’t looked the least bit concerned. She set down her tablet, looking up at him with an annoyed expression as if he was being unreasonable with the situation. “I expect you to understand.”

“Understand?” He grounded out, arms waving with unrestrained tension and energy. “Understand that you're just glorified thugs, easily bought? Or that you have no moral values whatsoever? Is that it? Because if that’s it, then yeah, I understand you completely!”

"Look here, you brat, I don't have to explain myself to you!" She snapped, pushing out of her chair, toppling it over. Her glare was vicious. "If you don't like how I run things, tough! Either find someone else to do business with or suck it up!"

He stood there, body vibrating with emotions that had him snapping back, "You came to me!"

“I had my own reasons,” she defended, folding her arms, “but now I’m starting to doubt my decision.”

"You were going to _use_ me?” The thought of helping the woman in front of him in any way revolted him, unable to imagine what kind of disaster that would spell out for his friends and family, for Tadashi. When Ren didn't answer him, he knew his assumption had been on the mark. “Then I’m completely wrong- you're not just double-crossing thugs without an honest bone in your body. You're manipulative, double-crossing thugs."

Behind him he heard the elevator groan open and close again, signifying that they now had an audience. But Hiro didn't acknowledge them, they- none of them- deserved his attention.

Hiro fished into his pocket and pulled out his winnings before Ren could retort at his insult, tossing it angrily onto the table, “Here’s your stupid money-" He didn't bat an eyelash at her surprised expression- for it couldn't possibly be guilt he was seeing, the woman in front of him too emotionally stunted to experience any kind of empathy. "It fully covers all I’ve learned today, I think." He turned, peering at her from over his shoulder. "Nice doing business with you.”

Then he was marching across the large room, purposefully ignoring the two individuals near the entrance, only pausing when he found them standing between him and the elevator. He looked up then, shoulders pushed back as he loomed over them. A petite blonde glared at him from under straight-cut bangs while the other, a limber dark haired woman holding a fan, leaned against the gate.

"Move," he ordered, "or I'll make you."

The air thickened when they didn't move and Hiro was already curling his hands into fists, too ready to go through with his threat, when the smaller one broke off her stare down and, eyes flickering over to the space by his left elbow, stepped aside. Fan girl pushed herself away from the wall as well, moving to walk around and behind him. Hiro had the urge to turn and watch her, not wanting a possible enemy in his blind spot, but stopped himself; he didn't want to give Ren the satisfaction of knowing how beaten and powerless he felt in their presence.

So, not wanting to be there a second longer, he entered the elevator and left.

* * *

_Stress, biological or physical, is an organism's response to a stressor such as an environment condition or a stimulus. It is common-_

A hiss of pain interrupted Baymax's stream of data, the nursebot's entire processing power immediately switching from the video he was accessing via internet and focused on the release of air between clenched teeth. A red dot appeared at the corner of his internal screen, the recording of the doctor-patient interaction continuing on as prior, as was protocolled.

"Hiro, if you would please refrain from moving," he instructed, large hands settling on the boy's shoulder to inoculate stillness.

His patient retreated to his earlier position, nodding. Current brain activity and hormone levels indicated lingering stress and anger, yet those were expected to stabilize with time.

“As your healthcare companion, I must also insist that you halt you recreation activities, as they are not aiding in your recovery.” Baymax stated as he applied a spray to a cut on his patient’s arms, wrapping it up with precision. “In contrast, it would seem they are the causes of your unstable health.”

Hiro did not reply and he did not show any outward sign that he had heard the nursebot’s diagnosis. Instead, the adolescent stared straight ahead, unresponsive.

Baymax increased the volume of his voice modulator and repeated the statement.

The robot received a response then. Hiro blinked, eyes dilating and focusing.

 _Mydriasis_ , his database supplied, but the robot did not relay the term aloud, analysis system deeming it unnecessary and pointless in terms of his patient’s health.

“It’s okay, Baymax, really,” Hiro said, bringing a pale hand (a shade too light, his sensors indicated) up to place against the robot’s left side. Baymax perceived the slight tremble in them, calculating and comparing them to the standards he had on file. The tests came out inconclusive, with not enough data present. “I’m just tired… nothing a good night’s worth of sleep can’t fix.”

Baymax voiced his agreement, pausing a moment before inquiring about his patient’s satisfaction.

The audio command was made affirmative, but the pitch indicated dissatisfaction. A short message appeared in the top right corner of his screen, inquiring on whether to conduct a survey on the care he was providing to his patient- it was soon dismissed, filed away for a time that would not disrupt his patient's recovery process.

He made his way to his charging station and, without further command, stepped into it. There was a spark and the robot was connected with the device, battery level increasing. Yet, before he fully powered down, his optic sensors took in the scene before him, his programming requiring once last inspection.

Hiro had seated himself on the lone stool in the room, turned away from the robot (habit dictated that Hiro would stay and watch Baymax deflate). The robot took in the slumped shoulders, one lower than the other by half a decimeter (prior signs of scoliosis were nonexistent). Took in the tense muscle in his patient’s back (tense and showing signs of blood clots) and how he rubbed his forehead (Hiro had no history of headaches). Took in how his feet splayed out before him, limp (there was no usual excess energy, transformed into the bouncing of a leg). Captured it through his lenses and initiated a scan.

 _Scan complete_ , his screen read a millisecond later.

As the deflation process was enacted, his internal database ran through the scan information, organizing and filing it properly and efficiently. Abnormalities were spotted. Proper treatment was searched and found. Future actions were devised.

Full scan analysis: 49%.

* * *

Hiro had not left his bedroom since he and Aunt Cass had left the hospital.

It wasn't that he didn't miss the sunshine or the cafe or anything of that sort. It's just that he missed Tadashi more.

Missed him so much that he couldn't dare focus on anything that didn't include his brother and/or his recovery, not even his tinkering or Megabot able to pull his interest out from the gutter. Missed him enough that school didn't matter- his acceptance letter had been laying unforgotten but untouched on his desk. What was SFIT if Tadashi wasn’t going to be there with him, showing him the ropes, sharing the same lab and building alongside him?

No, he wasn’t stepping a foot into that school until Tadashi was able to take that step with him.

He slumped further into the bean bag he was sitting in, leaning against the shoji screen that separated his and Tadashi's room. He listened to the silence, finding that he was perfectly fine with being alone.

Which is, of course, the exact moment Mochi came bounding up the stairs, the soft jingling of his collar the only thing preceding his entrance. Hiro rolled his head to look at the calico cat, not in the mood to play or do anything for that matter. “Go away, Mochi.”

As was the way with cats, Hiro's demand was promptly ignored. Instead, Mochi padded over to the genius’ side of the room, hopping onto his desk with a silent leap; he sniffed at Hiro's uneaten meal, sneezing, before rubbing up against the computer there. The device wobbled precariously backwards.

Without moving from his spot, Hiro grabbed at whatever was lying around and half-heartedly tossed it at the cat. His action figure hit the drawer of his table, rattling the entire thing and startling Mochi. The calico cat jump to the floor, bringing with him a familiar looking baseball cap.

“Mochi!”

The shout, one of anger, erupted out of Hiro immediately. He threw himself up and quickly crossed the room, picking up the hat and wiping off any dust that might have accumulating on it in the last five seconds. He hung it on his desk lamp, gently and with no small amount of care, turning it so that it faced him just so.

The stitching of the SFIT logo jumped out at him, reminding him of cheerful smiles and broken promises.

He sighed and looked away, idly digging his fingers into his desk.

Mochi was kneading the lump of fabric that was his favorite jacket, already completely over the scolding he had been given and onto better things. The feline closed his eyes as he began to settle, folding his front paws beneath him. It was like the cat knew Hiro didn't want to deal with him and stayed, simply out of spite.

"Oh, c'mon, Mochi," Hiro groaned, tugging the jacket out from underneath the cat, who let out a low growl deep in his throat, voicing his displeasure. When Mochi dug his claws into the makeshift bed, Hiro pulled harder, wanting to see the cat overturned. "You're gonna get hair all over it."

With a final tug, Hiro secured the jacket from his disgruntled cat, ready to give his pet a good talking to (maybe even get the spray bottle from the kitchen). But the words slipped from his mind when he felt a slight pressure on his stomach, where his jacket was pressed against him. Ignoring Mochi (who was doing the same as he settled onto Hiro's pillow with a glare that dared the boy to interfere) he lifted the outerwear, searching, because he was more than sure he felt something.

He pinpointed movement coming from one of the pockets and reached inside, pulling out- _a microbot?_

"Wha...?" Pinching the small tech between two fingers he peered closely at it. His eyebrows drew together when it was decided that, without a doubt, the small thing in his grasp was one of the thousands of microbots he had created months ago. It was undeniable, the small piece of metal exact, down to the smooth feel and black shade of it.

But... that was impossible.

Everything had been destroyed in the fire. Everything should have been destroyed in the fire. All the tech was long gone, the news covering the estimated loss, billions of dollars down the drain.

Not to mention the life of one of the world's greatest robotic thinkers.

Hiro kneeled down and reached blindly for the chemistry kit that he was sure was underneath his bed, keeping a watchful eye on Mochi, who was eyeing the wiggling thing curiously. He awkwardly shuffled back, pulling out a green box covered in dust bunnies. Brushing it briefly, he unhooked the clasp and opened the thing; he spotted what he was looking for immediately, between the graduated cylinder and clamps. With an efficient and practiced flick, he had the petri dish open and closed, microbot captured within.

It moved about, bumping against the walls of its prison and trying to break free. Maybe it was broken... but he knew how his tech worked, knew what it did while fritzing and this, this wasn't normal (he hadn't made them fireproof, but still). Hiro looked to the window, the direction the small tech wanted to go, intrigued.

Something was up, he decided. Something that didn't quite fit in the equation of it all.

His mind whirled, taking the bait of the distraction.

Maybe he could-

"Hiro!"

He shoved the petri dish into his pocket at his aunt's call. And when he heard footstep racing up the stairs the boy scrambled over to the other side of the room and arranged himself back into his I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it position.

He expected his aunt to come plowing in with a plate full of food, babbling on about SFIT and 'Tadashi would want you to.' He already had a list of noncommittal responses ready, efficient in their skill of driving off unwanted pity, as well as his aunt’s desperate nagging. Though, all that died in the back of his throat as he watched Aunt Cass come stumbling up the stairs, tripping on the last step, wide-eyed and looking frazzled.

"Hiro," she croaked, clearing her throat of the shaky quality it had taken on. "Oh, sweetie, come here," she said as she righted herself, smoothing down her hair, and reached out for him.

His eyebrows drew themselves down, confused, because his Aunt Cass was usually some sort of crazy, but never this weird; it was unsettling. Feeling the mild panic begin to bubble in his chest, Hiro didn't fight when he was pulled up and into a tight hug.

"We..." She sucked in a deep breath before continuing. "We have to go to- to the hospital. I... got a call and, well, now I’m freaking out, but that’s fine. It's fine. I'm fine." She started stroking the spot between his shoulder blades, more frantic than soothing. "And I'm taking care of things. The cafe’s closed, the car's out front, and the keys are somewhere downstairs... I think. But we really have to go. Now, in fact- right this very minute- wait, no, this second. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and why I’m hugging you and we’re just standing here, but I am and we are."

Hiro listened to the erratic beat of his aunt's heart as she babbled on, feeling his own start to speed up in response, but didn't respond.

"It’s Tadashi," she continued, settling her hands on either shoulder and staring into his eyes. Hiro fumbled with the seam of his shirt nervously, but, before he could reply, his aunt straightened and turned away from him, racing about his room. She picked up his jacket and shoes, shoving the latter under her armpit while she guided his arms through the sleeves. Words tumbled out of her mouth, no filter as per usual. "They said- well, you know, they were pretty vague, which, honestly, is terrible service. What kind of policy is that? To scare the pants off people with ominous talk of health hazards and terrorist attacks and whatever else."

"What..." He swallowed and started again, gripping his shoes and thinking of the worst. "What happened?"

She stopped her mad rush, hand frozen where it was reaching out for the lone cap settled where Hiro had placed it. Her fingers curled as her hand retreated back. "I-I don't really know..."

"Is he going to be okay?"

Something flickered in her gaze and, slowly, she uncurled her fingers and picked up the article of clothing. Stroking the rough material she glanced up at him. She looked just as lost as Hiro felt.

"Maybe he's awake," he suggested, the shred of hope he still held bleeding into his voice without his consent.

She took a moment too long to nod, offering him a strained smile; the cap was soon in the genius’ hands. "Yeah, maybe that's it."

But Hiro didn't like how her eyes lowered and smile slipped when she thought he wasn't looking.

* * *

Tadashi was burning.

Fire licked at his body, tasting his sweat and fear. It danced all around him, making his already dizzy mind spin with how it swayed and lurched about. Fiery nails, sharper than anything he had ever known, raked against his skin, ripping and shredding. It was savage as it tore him to shreds, not satisfied until he was bare and defenseless- only then could it blaze though his insides, leaving nothing untouched and nothing unscorched.

Embers, pulsing a violent mixture of red and orange, pressed against his flesh, making him want to scream until his throat was hoarse and raw. But he couldn’t scream, couldn’t because ash filled his lungs, seeping into every cell and suffocating him. He choked out a cry for help, a mixture of spit and cinder dribbling down his chin. He cried and wailed, but was left gagging on his own words as he burned.

He desperately tried to claw his way out, hands fumbling for some sort of grip, but only having his own ashes slip through his fingers; he fell. Down, down, down he went, straight into the melting pot.

He looked up, eyes stinging, for one last hope. But it was all for nought, because a giant pillar loomed over him, blocking any forms of escape. It fell, ready to extinguish the hungry flames- his along with it. His mouth opened, and he could taste the crisp of his own flesh as he did, ready to try and release one last scream-

Tadashi woke with a start, eyes flashing open.

For a moment, all he could comprehend was his own heavy breathing. The irregular way he inhaled and exhaled; it ran off beat to his heart, which was beating like a jackhammer within the confines of his ribcage.

White walls surrounded him, so bright that Tadashi found himself closing his eyes to escape it. His left hand twitched, automatically trying to raise itself and cover his sensitive eyes, but found that it was hindered by something. Tadashi peeked open a single eye and looked down, only to see a needle puncturing the skin at the inside of his elbow, an almost clear liquid passing through it from a pouch hung on a stand to his left. A pulse oximeter clamped down onto his index finger; he could feel his heartbeat through the pressure as it transmitted the information to the heavy looking machine next to the stand.

He was lying down, in a bed that smelled like disinfectant and lemons, he realized seconds later. A bed that wasn’t his own, different in every way; it was too clean, too soft, too _comfortable_. Where were the low whining of bed springs, the slight rough feeling whenever he moved, or the smell of the same old detergent Aunt Cass bought without fail?

And he couldn’t feel his right hand, or that side of his upper back for that matter. Needles prickled at the edge of the numbness, where his shoulder merged to his neck, but other than that… nothing.

"Wha...?" His lips were dry and cracked. He realized his mistake the moment the words were out, his throat burning from disuse. Something between a cough and a whimper passed his lips as he tried to swallow the pain away, only for it to increase.

The distorted young man angled his head down, blinking slowly when he finally caught sight of his right arm.

It was wound up tightly in bandages, the multiple layers making the appendage look twice its actual size. Craning his neck, he could barely see the tips of his fingers where they peeked out from the extensive wrapping. They didn't respond when Tadashi went to flex them, no matter how many times he tried.

Why couldn’t he move? His brain was wracking for an answer, but whatever was limiting the feeling in his arm was doing something to his brain as well; a mental wall kept him trapped in the dark, while a fog lingered about the edges, confusing him and sending him back to the beginning. He was in a bed that wasn’t his own, in a room that wasn’t his own, that was all he seemed to be able to gather.

What was the last thing he remembered?

Hiro. Hiro, his little brother, was the last thing he remembered. Gap toothed, wild hair, and an inflated ego that went hand-in-hand with his smarts. Tadashi had been proud (no, wait, he was always proud) and Hiro was happy (but gummy bears made the kid happy too, right?).

No, that wasn’t right. There was something more, something that came after Hiro. Something important. Fire. Yes, but, no…? Fire was there, but that wasn’t what he was looking for. It was something else, something less destructive. Something… purple? No- maybe- yes. Something purple, a purple something, a purple thing, a-

-and there he went, running into the wall, with the fog surrounding him, shooing away his thoughts.

Now that was frustrating.

Tadashi slumped back onto the uncomfortably fluffed pillow and stared at the ceiling for a few moments, trying to, once again, chase and capture his ever evasive thoughts and memories. But they slipped right through his feeble, imaginary fingers, taking shelter in the fog far beyond his reach.

Not liking his own incompetence and fearing the unknown that was the fog, the young man decided to focus on happier, known memories. He remembered- of Christmases past, of trips to the park, of days spent bustling around a cafe, of long nights and joyful laughter- and recalled, sinking into the deep depths of his own mind.

But, his mind grew tired soon enough, all previous energy spent and gone. Eyes slowly fluttered closed, shutting the conscious world out.

The last thing he knew of is the sound of a door opening and footsteps, quiet and muffled and rhythm lulling, making their way toward his bedside. He idly wondered who was there and why, but the thought slipped his mind just as easily as consciousness did.

So, Tadashi drifted off, already too far gone into a world of endless possibilities and dreams- flying cats, gap-toothed smiles and giant marshmallows there to greet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, hope you all enjoyed the chapter and hope to see your reviews on what you felt and think!


	9. Of Revived Brothers and Weak Allies

The chair creaked under Hiro's weight as he shifted, body wanting-no, needing- to move in order to expel all his excess nervousness. He sat on his hands, his feet tapping together; his eyes flickered around the room, never settling on one thing in particular, only to go back to stare at his sneakers. He took in the pile of magazines on the small table to his left, their pages ripped and crumpled from use, and the potted plants, their leaves too green and too perfect, positioned around the room.

He didn’t like it here.

Only three other people occupied the waiting room with him. An old man slumped in his seat across from Hiro, face sagging and shoulders hunched. Unfocused, sunken eyes looked balefully forward, unresponsive. A couple sat in the corner to his right, intertwined in each other’s arms; the man's head was bowed, resting on the woman's shoulder. Hiro could hear muffled sniffling.

A TV bolted to the wall emitted a small buzz of sound, broadcasting a news story about an earthquake that had just hit San Fransokyo, destroying countless houses and lives in the poorer districts. When the screen showed an image of the destruction he averted his eyes back to the people, then onto a lone chair and then, finally, back to his feet. The next story, telling of a recent attack, fell on deaf ears.

Hiro looked up at the sounds of footsteps, watching as his aunt returned from the front desk, passing over the other occupants with a sad look, and knelt before him. He could hear her nails scrape against the cold material of the chair he was sitting on as she pulled a hand from underneath him and held it between both of hers. Her eyes shined in the florescent lighting, making her look far older than she was.

“I-” She began before breaking off, angling her head down. She took a deep breath and, just as Hiro started to panic and assume the worst, looked up. She was smiling.

Hiro wasn't sure what to make of it. Was she smiling because it was the only thing keeping her from breaking down? From collapsing into a depressed slumber and never waking up, just like he did. He didn’t want her to keep it together for his sake. Or did he? “Is he alright?” Hiro asked, worry getting the best of him.

"Yes,” she whispered and Hiro could finally recognize the emotion swirling in her misty eyes. _Relief_. Utter relief and- was that joy? "Oh, baby, yes. He's better than alright. He's..." She brought a hand to her mouth, Hiro's captured one's coming with them, pressing firmly against her lips. "He's awake."

Hiro blinked.

“Can I see him?” Somehow his aunt could hear his words, quiet as they were. His voice was barely able to work properly.

Aunt Cass nodded fervently, smiling so wide now that Hiro felt one forming on his face as well. “Of course you can- actually, we can see him right now, if you want." She looked over her shoulder where Hiro spotted a nurse waiting a few feet back, hands clasped in front of him in a look of professional patience. "He's been asking about you. C’mon.” 

He took her outstretched hand and let himself be guided down the hall. They followed the man who introduced himself as Tadashi's personal nurse, going on to tell them not to hesitate in coming to him for any problems and/or concerns they had. Besides that, he remained silent, seemingly not finding any small talk necessary- for that, Hiro was thankful.

They're speed was a little too slow for Hiro's liking, but he suffered through it until, _finally_ , they arrived at their destination. The door to his brother's room stood ajar, yet they didn't go in. Hiro was opening his mouth to ask why they had stopped when he impatiently peeked around the nurse's side and caught a glimpse of inside the room, instantly freezing in place at what he saw.

There was Tadashi.

Not the motionless and unresponsive Tadashi that he had been becoming all too familiar with over the past few days, stuck in a bed that looked too much like a coffin in Hiro's eyes. No, this Tadashi was sitting up in bed, pristine sheets drawn loosely around his waist. This Tadashi was _awake_ , lucid enough to hold a conversation with a doctor as another nurse took detailed notes on a clipboard. He was nodding, offering a hand to the doctor for inspection; though, still slumped against the pillow, he was barely able to keep his arm aloft before the doctor had to gently take hold of it, looking more ragged than he’d ever been.

The doctor's was speaking, voice low, filling the room with a muted talk of muscle movement and potential deterioration.

The peace was interrupted when the nurse who had been leading them rapped his knuckles on the doorframe in three quick successions. The trio looked up.

Hiro saw Tadashi's eyes skim completely over the nurse, seemingly drawn to him and Aunt Cass. He saw them widen momentarily, traveling up and down each of their forms twice over, before crinkling as his cheeks lifted in a big smile.

"Be gentl-"

The male nurse's warning was promptly ignored as Hiro pushed out from behind the nurse and rushed across the room, launching himself at his brother with all he had. He almost face-planted while scrambling to get up on the bed, so dangerously close to taking all the machinery and wiring down with him, but righted himself at the last minute.

The voices behind him, which were the beginnings of a good scolding, quieted as he wrapped his arms around his brother. His hold tightened when he felt arms immediately snake around him in return, squeezing with a force that seemed too brittle. Hiro shoved his nose into his brother's neck and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent- though slightly warped with the amount of disinfectant rubbed into their surroundings- that was solely Tadashi.

He could hear Aunt Cass's sniffling behind them, mumbling something about her 'two baby boys'.

"Hiro..." Tadashi breathed out, lifting his right- bandaged- hand and clumsily stroking the younger's hair. "I missed you, kiddo."

Hiro wanted to pull away and angrily tell his brother about all he had gone through; all the miserable days spent worrying, waiting. The lonely nights where he had curled up on Tadashi's bed, clutching his hat as if it was his lifeline. The hours spent brainstorming of more efficient ways to permanently fireproof things so that no more older brothers had to be sacrificed in the name of good. The tantrums thrown over selfless brothers and their need to save the world.

But, in the end, all he did was tighten his hold and mumble, "I missed you, too."

And when Tadashi leaned back, attempting to pull away, Hiro's attention snapped to his face, worry gnawing at him, distress coloring his face. Had he said something wrong? Did he hurt his older brother? Only Tadashi's easy-yet-pained smile calmed him, gently pushing him away. "Hey, it's okay. I'm just a little sore, so go easy on me, alright?"

"Let's hope you didn't damage him." At the nurse's teasing comment, Hiro felt his cheeks warm. Though he did loosen his hold, he didn't let go completely, keeping his finger still tangled in his brother's night shirt as he watched the nurse take a step forward with a needle and a clear bottle. "But, no worries. Once we get this into him, he'll be sleeping all that off. "

A noise escaped Hiro, a cross between a whine and a groan, at those words. He hadn't had nearly enough time with his brother. Tadashi had only just woken up and now he was going back to sleep?

But Hiro did see the necessity of it. His brother looked tired, more tired than after any of his all-nighters he'd undergone to desperately cram in last minute studying and projects. He had small crescent moons under his eyes despite the days spent unconsciousness and a slight stubble shadowing his jaw (his brother never allowed himself to look less than presentable). His shoulders slumped forward and the hand not holding onto Hiro lay limp in his lap.

Tadashi seemed to understand what Hiro was feeling in terms of their short lived reunion, catching his eye and offering an apologetic smile from the bed, but refrained from moving himself. The nurse, whose name Hiro had honestly already forgotten, was fiddling with the IV in his arm, all the while showing Aunt Cass what the machines were reading and that they meant her nephew was in good shape.

Tadashi's positive attitude and smile pacified Hiro, leaving him content to just enjoy the company of his brother for the remaining time. They idly chatted about menial things for the minute they had to themselves as the adults worked, Hiro ending up babbling on about the insignificant actives that had gone on at home- Mrs. Matsuri's recent appalling outfit that left Hiro gagging, and even Mochi's new habit of stealing socks (but, surprisingly enough, only the left one).

It wasn't much, but it was something. Maybe, if Tadashi was told everything then it would be like he had been there the whole time. Tadashi didn't seem to mind, leering Hiro to go on and on, nodding along and staying focused through the simple topics and stories. Talk of SFIT and the fire was left alone, which was just fine with Hiro.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hiro watched the male nurse whisper something to the doctor and female nurse, who scribbled something down. After a word or two more from the doctor, the man left, motioning for the nurses to follow him for a private word.

By the time the doctor and nurses had had some time to themselves and Tadashi's nurse had returned three minutes later, Aunt Cass (who had finally wiped away the last of her happy tears) and Hiro were seated in two chairs and Tadashi lowered into a more comfortable position. Hiro didn't bother asking what they gave Tadashi, only caring that his brother looked a bit pained when they stuck the needle in, Aunt Cass having to lay a firm hand on his shoulder so he wouldn't interfere ( _I'm fine, I'm fine, just a little sore, that's all_ ). It was only a matter of time before his brother was out like a light, leaving them to speak another time.

"Hey." Hiro looked up at the soft nudge, Tadashi arm barely reaching him, and met his brother's eyes. "Can you do something for me?"

Hiro immediately nodded, leaning forward. He was desperate to do something, anything. Whatever his brother needed, he would do it.

"There's some stuff at my lab that can't stay there," Tadashi said, shifting under the thin sheets. Hiro’s eyes strayed to his bandaged side momentarily, noting how his brother barely moved it after the earlier physical inspection. "Baymax, some notes and my sketch pad. Can you bring them home for me?"

Tadashi's expression was sincere, his entire attention entirely on Hiro. Though his eyes were half lidded and his words coming out slower than usual, like he had to really think over the simple request, but sure nonetheless.

The medicine was finally kicking in, their visit coming to an end.

Immediately taking to his request, Aunt Cass patted Tadashi's shoulder with a chipper smile. "Great idea! Oh! You can do it today- this afternoon. I'll drop you off and pick you up after I'm done here."

The speed in which his aunt had grabbed at the idea had Hiro suspicious. Yes, it had to be done, but now that Tadashi was awake, it wasn't a major problem.

It was a ploy and he saw right through it. They wanted him gone and out of the way while Aunt Cass dealt with the more adult side of this accident, the papers and bills and talk of rehabilitation. He hadn’t thought about the legalities; they certainly didn't want him to find out the details of the problems this accident was going to give them. Before he wouldn't have cared about technicalities, just wanting to get out of the hospital as soon as possible and put the situation behind him. Now, he desperately wanted to know everything and show them that he could help.

But, for once, he was fine with it- being treated like a kid, fine with being kept in the dark for now. Anything to make Tadashi happy.

His brother's words finally caught up to him, his brain fully comprehending what they meant.

"You're not going back?"

Before answering, Tadashi shared a look with Aunt Cass over Hiro's head and he felt a flare of annoyance, something he hadn’t felt in the weeks filled with stress and loneliness. He could be treated like a kid, but he wasn't going to break at a simple answer. "It's a 'maybe' for me."

He wanted to ask why, to argue against the decision. He wanted to tell them that school was nothing without Tadashi there and his ever positive and supportive personality. Instead, he kept quiet, not wanting to be labeled as a problem when they already had so many.

"I can get Aunt Cass to ask Wasabi or Honey Lemon if you aren't up for it..." Tadashi offered, distant mind understanding that Hiro was displeased from his silence, but unable to pinpoint the why factor and missing it completely. The older boy shifted to face their aunt, wincing slightly when his ribs protested, most likely to follow up with his idea.

"I'll do it."

Tadashi stopped and blinked at him, obviously surprised. "You will?"

Hiro gave a one shoulder shrug, looking away. During the hard times, it was easier to joke than actually deal with the problems, so he slid into the habit easily. "Yeah, sure, I'll rescue your lame robot from your even lamer nerd school."

His brother's small laugh at Hiro's half attempt at a joke turned into a happy sigh. The hand closest to him lifted and clumsily patted his arm, missing his appendage entirely the first few times.

"You're the best..." Tadashi trailed off, eyes fluttering. His head rolled to one side, hiding most of the bandages wrapped around his head from view.

It wasn't long until his breathing evened out into a slow rhythm.

"He should be out for a while." The male nurse's voice came from the other side of the bed after a good ten minutes of silence. Hiro allowed himself one glance away from Tadashi's peaceful expression, acknowledging the other's presence, but choosing not to respond. That was why Aunt Cass was there.

"When will he wake up again?"

The nurse pursed his lips and ran a hand through his red hair as he mulled over the question. "Within the next eight or nine hours, I'd say." They nodded, Aunt Cass doing so as she lifted herself from her seat and readjusted her clothes. She angled her head down towards Hiro, "We shoul-"

"Can we come back tomorrow?"

"Of course." Her answer was calm and hesitation free. Now that they had seen, with their very own eyes, that Tadashi wasn't at death's door Aunt Cass looked more like her usual self. A load had been lifted off her shoulders and now she could breathe a little easier because of it. "Now we have to let him rest- though heaven knows he's done enough of that- but, doctor's orders are doctor's orders."

Hiro nodded, standing and getting ready to leave. Though, while he waited for her to fill out a small amount of paperwork, he kept his hold on Tadashi's hand, not wanting to release it until it was absolutely necessary. And when he finally did, the warm material of the gauze rubbing against his palm as limp fingers slipped through it, he did so with an easy mind, knowing his brother would be there when he returned.

* * *

The sky was partly cloudy and there was numerous people milling about the Tea Gardens. The grass was a vibrant green and the trees, tall and luscious. The wind carried the sound of laughter and general contentness, stirring leaves and stealing unsuspecting hats. Dog walkers and joggers alike made their way down the winding pathways, passing the picnic goers settled on the grassy hills. Even the flowers were blooming, splashes of color adding to the loveliness.

Yet, despite the beautiful scenery, Honey couldn’t admire it, her entire attention on the worry gnawing at her insides. She shifted constantly and had readjusted her position on the park bench she was currently perched on at least twenty times in the last minute; uncrossing and recrossing her legs, pulling her dress to her knees and smoothing the fabric down.

She risked a sidelong glance at her friend beside her, who looked to be without a care in the world. GoGo leaned back against the bench, legs stretched out before her and sipping her drink as she watched the world with a disinterested expression.

But Honey knew better.

Honey opened her mouth- only to find that no words would come- and quickly snapped it shut. Instead, she took another sip of her drink, sucking loudly through the chewed straw. One or two tourists passed by, a map in tow and looking positively confused (she wasn't in a helping mood, which was absolutely unsettling because she was always open to meeting new people).

It was about the fifth or sixth attempt at making conversation that GoGo snapped at her, "If you have something to say, then say it."

The Latina blinked, face professionally neutral. "What? I don-"

GoGo rolled her eyes. "Yes, you do, and we both know it. It's all over your face." Her finger traced out a circle, perfectly outlining the taller girl's head. "Now get it over with and just come out and say it."

Honey really loved that about GoGo, her blunt manner, always encouraging her to speak her mind. And even now, spurred her on, the blonde wasting no time in sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in a mad rush, "The media's telling everyone it was a terrorist attack."

She didn't clarify what 'it' was, but GoGo would know immediately what she was talking about. The Korean girl snorted into her drink. "They're lying. Probably bought off by Yama or someone. This has the mob written all over it."

A dog started barking behind them, followed by the delighted laughter of small child. Gogo took the time to twist in her seat and look behind her, watching as a dog, in its enthusiasm, bumped into a little girl, causing her to take a tumble in the grass. She cried out, only it turning into giggles when a slobbery tongue started exploring her chubby face.

Not turning away from the scene, Gogo added in small voice, almost as a side comment, "They were after Tadashi."

“Are you sure?”

“Am I-?” GoGo sputtered, calm exterior broken, slamming her drink onto the bench with more force necessary. “There were killer women chasing me through the hospital and you’re asking me if I’m sure? Of course I’m sure!”

As she said it, Gogo looked so passionate on the topic that Honey couldn't doubt it; GoGo was never the one to lie about something so absurd. Hearing the words being said out loud, coupled with the interrogation situation, made the surreal incident all the more irrefutable.

Honey went quiet, fiddling with her phone. She ran her index finger over the volume buttons of her case, repeating Gogo's words in her head. The word 'killer' stood out in particular, horrible scenes running through her mind.

"It's not your fault." Honey made a quick glance up, to see GoGo staring at her. "Whatever you're thinking- it's not your fault."

Her foot made small circles in the ground where he gaze was directed. "I should have been there with you."

"Honey, no, that-'"

"Should have called you at least- but I was too busy baking stupid snickerdoodles, being a bad friend." She gave a self-deprecating laugh, so out of place on her usual happy features that GoGo looked incredibly concerned.

"Hey," Gogo demanded her attention, flicking her straw at the blonde, a few drips of iced coffee splattering on her face. "Oops, sorry 'bout that." She offered a small smile when her friend looked up. "But, seriously, there was nothing you could have done anyway. And you being at home, somewhere safe, doesn't make you a bad friend- I mean, come on, would a bad friend get me out of jail time or sneak me a discount on my drink?"

Gogo's drink sloshed around in its cup as she jiggled it, earning a grateful smile on Honey Lemon's part. The Korean girl gave a resolute nod at that and turned back to her previous position. Honey was about to do the same when a thought occurred to her.

“What about Fred and Wasabi?”

Gogo slipped her straw back into her drink. "What about them?"

"Well, we have to tell them what happened, don't we?"

“And what do you propose we tell them?” GoGo asked in return. “That Tadashi’s the number one target for the mafia. What could Comic Nerd and Mr. Alphabetizer possibly do? We're dealing with criminals here."

"Still," Honey persisted, brushing her hair over her shoulder, "they could help."

Gogo sighed and set her drink back down. "The more people that know what really went down, the higher the chance of something bad happening."

Honey clicked her tongue. "Oh, you're just saying that because you're still mad at Wasabi for what happened last week, which is really unfair of you."

"I am not!" Gogo argued, lowering her volume when a pair of joggers turned her way at her indignant yell. She opened her mouth to say more, but when she saw Honey's expression she conceded, "Okay, maybe a little. But really, who goes around throwing other people's notes away?"

"Gogo, they were crumpled and on the floor of Wasabi's lab station- you threw them at him, remember?"

The Korean girl crossed her arms. "That's beside the point."

"Gogo," Honey began, desperately trying to disguise her amused tone as a scolding one.

Gogo didn't seem to notice, but instead threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Fine, fine- yeah, sure. We'll tell them." Honey Lemon took a sip of her drink, trying to hide her smile of victory- it was wiped right off her face when her friend went on. "But, we tell Tadashi nothing, got it?"

She looked down and away biting her lip. Though, eventually, she did nod in agreement, albeit a bit hesitantly.

They were quiet for a few moments before Honey found the courage to speak up, her hand settled onto her friend's arm, asking, "Have you gone to see him yet?"

"No." The dark haired girl sneaked a glance, quick as a viper, contrasting with the slow speed in which she asked, "...have you?"

"Not yet," Honey told her, "I'm planning on going tomorrow with Fred and Wasabi." She scooted closer. "Do you want to come wi-"

"Pass," Gogo interrupted, fishing her phone out of her pocket and checking the time. She abruptly stood, her small body forming a shadow large enough to shield Honey from the sun's rays. "I have things I need to do."

Honey frowned, eyebrows drawn as she stared up at her friend. "You already have plans?"

Gogo tossed her drink in the direction of a trash bin a few feet away from them, the cup flying in a neat arc and landing dead center of the bin's opening. "Gotta stop by downtown today and tomorrow.”

Realization of GoGo's plans for the next day hit Honey. Looking at her face, with its tight expression, had her heart going out to the short girl. "I can make more cookies for you to bring over, if that'll help."

GoGo looked like she was actually considering it, but shrugged off the offer. "No, don't worry about me. I'll deal with it." After a moment, she seemed to think it over again. “Actually, in case I’m dealing with complete idiots, save me a batch.”

Honey tried not to laugh, not the type to insult officers of the law, but allowed herself a giggle. Though she sobered once again after a moment and a thought.

“What should we tell Hiro? I mean, he does have a right to know.” The tall girl hunched forward, frowning sadly. “He isn't going to take it well- not that I blame him- and, oh, things are just beginning to turn back around for him." A manicured finger came up to be pressed against her mouth, nail threatened to be bitten. "Poor Hiro. What are we going to do?”

"Keep him happy." The statement was simple and blunt, the underlying message clear.

Tell the Hamada's nothing and keep them in the dark. They could remain blissfully unaware, their plate already full with problems and worries of their own.

Honey had never kept something this big from someone. She would struggle with keeping a small secret to herself, just so excited in sharing whatever great news she had, wanting everyone to be just as excited and happy as she was. How was she supposed to keep this kind of secret from one of her closest friends?

But then, Hiro's cute face popped up in her mind, his even cuter smile making her want to hug him as if he was a stuffed animal. He was such a sweetie and her heart ached for him, hurting all the more whenever his aunt relayed his worsening condition. It's the image of his downcast expression in her mind that made her decision.

"Okay," she said finally, meeting her friend's eye this time around. She unfolded her legs and stood up as well, wobbling a bit when one of her heels made contact with a loose pebble. Righting herself, she said, "You're right. They don't need to know."

Gogo didn't comment, instead starting to walk away, down the path.

Honey quickly shouldered her bag, skipping forward to catch up with her friend. And so, arms linked loosely together, they made their way out of the park.

* * *

When Hiro woke up later that day in the labs, he knew something was off.

The room had been changed since the night before, many of the personal items rearranged or gone entirely. In the back of his mind Hiro noticed that the missing items were all things Tadashi had been working on before the fire- however, it was one thing in particular that drew and consumed his immediate attention.

Baymax's case was missing.

He stared at the vacant spot, already knowing what it implied, but unable to look away. The afternoon glow passed through the window, shining down on the bare tile floor that hadn't seen the light of day since the charging station had first been placed there. The room seemed too empty now, devoid of any life, whether it be mechanical or not.

Now, he knew that this Baymax wasn't his, but that hadn't stopped him from growing attached to the robot instantly (it was just too easy to grow fond of the nursebot and, yes, he missed his own). So, to have the robot ripped away from him so suddenly and without any warning, well, it left him hurting.

Despite this universe's Tadashi not being dead, it seemed that all his possessions would still be moved from the labs to their house. Of course, he could still visit the robot in the secret of the night, when his younger self and Aunt Cass were out of the house or asleep. After his time escaping Krei Tech and going in and out the SFIT labs, breaking into his own home would be as easy as a walk in the park.

There wasn't even a question to if- he had to see Baymax. The chances of him lasting in this timeline without Baymax were slim and there was no way he was going put that to the test. No, he needed Baymax- his healthcare companion, his lifeline, his friend- like he needed air and there was nothing, _nothing_ , that would keep him away.

Bringing out the prescription bottle, noticing the dwindling pills within, he took two, grimacing when he had to swallow them dry.

His injuries weren’t so much a problem, most of his bruises almost gone and his muscle soreness felt more like something after an intense workout rather than crashing through a portal, while his cuts had long healed past the possibility of infection. Thankfully, his sprained ankle had fully healed properly, even with Baymax’s nagging that he had been putting too much strain on it during his nightly activities.

Thinking about the robot’s monotone voice, always saying something about how concerned he was about Hiro (and his health), brought a lonely smile to his face. The robot was so persistent, so unnecessarily physical, so… Baymax. By Avogadro’s Law, he missed him already.

Hiro’s vision became blurry and the corner of his eye welled up, automatically blinking to clear up because he didn’t have time to be sad. When his nose felt wet, he wiped at it with the back of his hand, only for his nose to become more clogged. He sniffed hard and rubbed his hand against his nose repeatedly, it started to burn. Once he saw his hand, some red mixed in with the booger, he grimaced in disgust.

His nose was bleeding, again.

_People are more susceptible to a bloody nose if they take medications that prevent normal blood clotting (aspirin or any anti-inflammatory medication are such examples). In this situation, even a minor trauma could result in significant bleeding so take precaution._

Hiro was nodding along to Baymax’s voice, pinched his nose accordingly (with his clean hand, not wanting his face to become an even bigger mess of tears, snot, and blood).

Sighing, he slumped into Tadashi’s chair, lifting his head. He was tired and lonely, not to mention the problems coming at him from left and right. First the disaster with the Fujitas and now even his body wasn’t cooperating with him. It truly amazed him how nothing was going right.

The only good thing to come out of all this, he thought, was Tadashi.

But even the thought of his brother, alive and well, couldn't lift his mood. He sulked for a while, walking around the lab as he waited for the nosebleed to come to a halt and desperately wishing Baymax was there to cheer him up with a lollipop. He was disappointed when his waiting bore no such fruit, the lab still lacking a marshmallow looking robot when he blinked. The nosebleed dwindled to a slow stop as Hiro stared out the window, wondering whether he could sneak a visit then and there.

But, in the end, he decided against it; he cleaned himself and took to the skies to scour the city, mind already thinking about possible plans and resulting outcomes.

* * *

The night was a cold one; the bay was overrun by a fog that had snuck its way from the water far beyond the piers, its curling fingers crawling and searching. It snuck its way through tiny cracks in walls and miniscule crevices, filling everything with its presence.

It was the perfect cover for the people hiding about a set of giant metal crates. Three cars surrounded the group, the beams from their headlights reflected off the fog and casting distorted shadows of the people caught in them; they shined bright, glaring and blinding, illuminating the stoic expressions of burly men and the one fear filled face of the man being thrust against a wall, knife dangerously close to his throat.

A car door opened and closed, signaling the entrance of an extremely large man, size and assortment of rings on his sausage fingers labeling him as one of San Fransokyo's infamous crime lords, Yama. Following close behind him was a thin woman, eyepatch accentuating the hard look on her sharp face.

The pair stopped a foot before the men, watching silently. And, as if there was some nonverbal signal given, the man was thrown to the ground, a foot kicking him onto his back and settling on his throat. Both his hands instantly made their way toward the boot clad foot, pushing and tugging, desperately trying to find purchase and lessen the pressure on his windpipe. The boot was only pressed even deeper in response, making the man sputter and choke.

Just when the man was beginning to turn blue, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, Yama stepped forward.

The squelching sound beneath his feet on the damp concrete was comical, Yama slowly making his way to his men. Only when he was at a vantage point where he could look down on a man who could easily tower over him did Yama stop, giving a grim smile. "It's been a while, my friend! I knew we'd see each other again, but not like this!" His voice was booming, but the fog swallowed up his voice before anyone beyond the bay would hear a sound, much less know what was going on.

The choking sounds, accompanied by a slight gurgle of spit, seemed to be the equivalent to an agreement. Yama leaned back, the fabric of his jacket pulled tighter against his large stomach when he did so, his smile morphing into a frown. "Now, we can pass all this ugly business right here and now. All you have to do is give me my due."

Wide eyes whizzed around, trying to find mercy in the hard faces surrounding him. Nostrils flaring as he tried to take a deep breath, he gave Yama a slow shake of his head.

"Ah, that is a problem, isn't it?" Yama looked up and nodded to one of the men. Instantly, the man bent down and swung a fist, brass covered knuckles making brutal contact with the choking man's face. Another punch followed closely behind, succeeded by three more. Only when the swelling became prominent did Yama signal the beating to stop and the foot to return, taking another step forward as he inspected his fingernails. "See how unpleasant that was, Sumi? But it's business. Now, I'm going to ask one last time: Where is my money?"

There were choking noises before the foot lessened its pressure on the throat, allowing the man to speak. “I had it! I wasn’t trying to cheat you! But a kid-”

The heel of the boot pressed hard against the man's Adam's apple, cutting him off abruptly. “What?”

Sumi pushed at the boot, moving the heel to settle on concrete rather than sensitive skin, energy coming from the eagerness at finding a possible opening of getting out of the situation. One of his eyes was now swollen shut, leaving only his left, that side of his face already marked by a hideous scar, to gaze pleadingly at the crime lord. “A scrawny kid took it- cheated me out of everything- the entire pot, even the backup!"

There's silence, only broken by the soft hum of the cars' engines behind them and the lapping of ocean water against the support beams of the piers. Then-

“Do you think me a fool?” Yama snarled, lines of his face deepening as his displeasure became more apparent, “That I would buy your pathetic jokes and excuses?”

"Wha-?" Sumi spluttered through a split lip as he was forcefully brought to stand on weak legs, only to finally comprehend the big man's words and the atmosphere they shaped. "No, no! That isn't what I- No! I would never- not to you- please, don't! I'm telling the truth, I swear it!"

With fists clenched Yama stepped forward, eyes alight with murderous intent. "You'll learn not to disrespect me again. A lesson I, myself, will be teaching."

But just as Yama pulled his hand back, poised ready to give an exceptionally savage beating, one of his men intercepted.

"Boss," he said, nodding toward the metal crates further down the abandoned shipyard. Annoyed, Yama turned, snarl still in place.

A shadow moved, slinking forward until their unusual associate was in the light, mask and all. He stood there, expectant, head tilted as he observed the situation.

"Ah, Yokai, glad to see you. Sadly, now's not a good time," the boss said, initiating the conversation when it was clear the other wouldn't, waving a hand at the slumped form of the man next to him. He didn't sound very pleased, but, rather, annoyed at the sudden appearance. "I'm busy dealing with some tax evasion, so," Yama turn his back toward the masked man, "if you'll excuse me..."

A river of black separated the big man and his victim, a wall rising up to further divide the two. "We need to talk."

"So talk!" Yama said harshly, not balking at the other's blatant show of power, but finding his course of actions limited to one. "Talk so I may return to my business."

"Ah, yes, and how ironic it is that 'talk' is the business I have concerning you," Yokai said, head tilted ever so slightly. He appeared to be at ease with the conversation despite the tense atmosphere. "Talk of your incompetence, to be exact."

Intense eyebrows furrowed impressively- the only indicator of Yama's coming outburst. "You dare-!"

"You assured me of a quick and quiet job," Yokai interrupted. "Something to be kept out of the tabloids and off the streets."

This time both of Yama's eyebrows raised themselves, far above his hairline. Then, after a moment, he scoffed, "You're talking about the minor bump we had at the hospital? That is nothing- it's being taken care of. Plus, it's not unusual for people to talk on the streets, especially for a job this big," Yama said impatiently. "But if it will ease your paranoid mind and have you out of my hair then I will have my people snuff it out. Now," he paused, eyeballing Yokai once more before dismissing him with a simple flick of the wrist. "If that is the last of your petty complaints, I will-"

Spikes erupted from the wall, their point inches from the boss' face.

Yama cursed and leaped back, nearly falling; only an outstretched hand of one of his men saved him from toppling backwards. When he was righted, face red and splotchy, he found that the spikes were gone- as if they had never been there in the first place- and most of his men dispatched.

Yokai was closer than he had previously been, black mass behind him rustling menacingly.

"It's not a professional who lets things succumb into such chaos," the voice behind the expressionless mask said, voice low and gruff, "but a halfwit."

The big man's eyes snapped to the yellow eyes of the mask, his remaining men behind him spluttering and starting at the disrespect given to their boss, only to back down when a sinister rattling emanated from the shadows surrounding them. But Yokai didn't twitch- standing tall and stoic like a thousand year old statue- not even when a tendril shot out of the shadows and presented a pile of papers to the large man.

Yama inspected it, schooling his expression and flicked a hand almost lazily, one of his men instantly reaching forward and ripping the crinkly paper from where it was impaled on the spear and passing it to Yama.

The headline screamed at them with dark, bolded letters, 'SELFLESS HERO OR DESTRUCTIVE VILLAIN?', showcasing a picture of an armored figure aiming a punch at a woman in rollerskates. Further down in the article were extensive writings concerning the women in question, inquiring on the situation and the reasons behind their appearance. A brief note at the very bottom, almost lost in the midst of the story, questioned their associations and, though never specifically mentioning a definite name, whether they were part of San Fransokyo's infamous ring of crime lords.

“Ren,” he snapped, eyes never leaving the newspaper and previous anger at the masked man momentarily forgotten as he addressed the woman, “I thought you said we covered all media?”

"We did," she replied, unfazed by all the threats and danger, "your contacts informed us it was taken care of." She eyed the paper. "Guess not."

"You ' _guess not_?'"

“I want him gone.” It was a demand, not a request, made before the woman could even think to respond. The shadows moved in hectic waves, showing their master's impatience. “Him and the boy- no mistakes this time.”

“I completely understand.” The contempt in his voice was directed behind him, where the ex-Fujita stiffly stood. "It's about time we cut our losses."

Yokai was lifted into the air, figure framed by the glowing shape of the moon. Gloved hands raised themselves, the shadows moving along with them, "Don't fail me again, else I decide to cut my own."

And with that the masked figured disappeared, the dark swallowing him up like a welcoming friend.

Silence broke free of its tight rein, running hand in hand with the fog that surrounded them.

"Boss," one of the men said, breaking the silence, hesitation rooted deep in their words. He, along with a few others, were in the process of helping their fallen comrades to their feet. "What should w-?"

But Yama wasn't listening.

With an animalistic yell he launched himself at the already sagging form of Sumi, no longer protected by the black wall. The man tripped to the ground, the support of the henchman's hold gone within an instant of Yama's war cry, head smashed against both hard concrete and an incoming fist. Blood gushed out of the man's nose when Yama landed a particularly hard punch, accompanied by a loud crack as bone and cartilage break.

The once feeble attempts to try and stop the crime lord cease entirely when it became clear how far the large man had gone; with every hit Yama let out a cry just as savage, comprehensible only in the way it sent chills down the spectators' spines. Yet, none are able to look away from the scene, attention captivated by the horrifying beauty of it.

It was then that Ren started counting. She counted, unable to stop her mind from thinking of a certain armored figure, and counted some more. Counted the number of punches, the number of kicks, the number of bones broken, the number of breathes left.

It took one and a half minutes for the body to stop moving.

Yama kept at it for three more.

* * *

At night, the city was at its best and worst.

Crime thrived in the night, went wild in the night. It shied from the day and kept to the shadows- always cautious, yet forever bold. It was the grime on the underbelly of the beast that was the city, flinchingly ugly when one took the time to peer closer. It scrawled its graffiti onto on billboards and under bypasses, marking it with its less than clean name. It hid the wrong doings from its only adversary, the light.

But how the lights shined in the night. Shined so pure and bright, beacons to the lost souls stumbling through the streets. Like a miniature galaxy, each blinking dot an expansion of an overall complex system. A system with its own story. Apart, yet still part of something larger.

That was what Hiro liked best about the city. How something so chaotic could mold into something greater, easily fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

Even from the rooftop where he stood, far from the ground and all its going-ons, the sight was still enough to leave him breathless. The billboards, lanterns, street lights, and movement of cars and people alike was a chaotic mess that captured Hiro’s attention for minutes on end. Even the turbines, bobbing slowly high above him, found their place in this fast paced system.

San Fransokyo never seemed to go to sleep, something always happening somewhere in the city. The noise could be overwhelming at times and easily give a migraine, but it was soothing to Hiro; every sound indicated that someone out there was going on with their life, giving energy to the city.

From his perch on the Aiku Center, he could see Krei Tech between two skyscrapers, gleaming as it would on the day of its opening in two weeks’ time.

Hiro settled into a more comfortable position, knowing he was going to be staying there for a while. With no Baymax to come back to, the city offered more comfort than the empty labs; more time could be spent scouring the streets and planning the next step, less wasted on recuperation.

He brought his right arm up to level with his chest, index finger of his other hand pressing down of his wrist. A piece of his armor flipped up, unearthing a hidden screen embedded into the purple metal. The screen came to life instantly and, with another press and flick of his finger, showed off an image of multiple wavelengths across its length. At the bottom was a five-digit decimal and a circle made out of alternating color coded bands next to it. As if turning a three dimensional knob, Hiro made a circle motion with his finger, the bands moving and changing color accordingly.

The teen then pressed down on the side of his helmet, just before his ear, and listened closely to the police broadcast. The grainy voices of strangers were loud and rushed, telling of robberies and the smaller crimes that made up San Fransokyo; Hiro ignored the less drastic situations, having faith that it was in the level of aptitude of the police to handle it. Instead he kept his ears peeled for anything that might concern Yokai, Krei Tech, and backstabbing, rollerskating women.

It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for.

_"Suspect wearing Kabuki mask spotted on Herring Street, calling in backup-"_

A scuffling noise sounded out behind him, breaking his concentration.

Hiro whipped around at the sound and faced away from the city lights, staring down the empty rooftop. Turning in a slow circle, knees bent and ready to move on a moment's notice, he opened his senses and his scanner to pick up any kind of oddity. But when his scanner did its work, it picked up nothing and indicated as such, agreeing with what his eyes saw.

He frowned, unsure. There was no doubt that he'd heard something and it was not just his paranoia supplying him with hallucinations. He squinted at the fire escape, and then the neighboring rooftops, eyes trailing along their edges until finally settling on a dark spot in his vision that hadn't been there earlier.

There, carefully placed on the roof edge, was a small package.

He tried to keep a cautious attitude, but found himself curious despite the high chance of danger this equation calculated to. And it was this foolish curiosity that led him to check his surroundings one last time, finding that it (again) concluded with his previous scan.

No one was around from the looks of it, Hiro being the only person lounging about the rooftops of the city this late. Whatever- whoever, he suspected- had made the earlier sound was long gone now, disappearing before he could catch even a glimpse.

When he gingerly picked up the package, holding it far away from his body as his suit underwent yet another scan for safety measures, the sound of crinkling paper reached his ears, piquing his interest. So when his scan came out clean he wasted no time in opening it and pulling out its contents, unsurprised to find a folder stuffed to the brim with papers; he was more surprised to see something else slip out and fall at his feet.

Glancing down, he saw a blank envelope. When he inspected it, opening the flap and sliding its contents out to enjoy the cool night air, he found a bundle of pictures with a small piece of paper tied on top. Unfolding it, he read the message printed there, its spidery writing a refreshing change from his own chicken scratch.

_Don’t expect any favors._

Confused, he examined the other side of the note, only finding it blank and without any indication of whom it was from. Rather than mull over it, he set it aside with the papers, focusing on the pictures.

There were a couple of them, some grainy and blurry, while others were sharp and clear as day. He idly flipped through them, finding no interesting or connections with the multiple people and scenes they portrayed, until one caught his eye.

On it, a masked man surrounded by a black mass.

He stared and stared, blinking rapidly to make sure he wasn't dreaming (he wasn't). Flipping it over, he spotted a date and approximate address. The other pictures gave him the same thing, with different dates and places, some even having a specific time scribbled out.

And when he checked the papers, Hiro found it an assortment of police reports, medical reports, background checks, and criminal records. His eyebrows found themselves past his hairline when he came across papers dedicated to weapons and tech, the extensiveness of it all stunning him; the criminals he’d dealt with in the past hadn't even had advanced tech like this (none that he and his friends had confiscated anyway).

That train of thought had him flipping through the pictures, dog earing the ones where he determined were potential leads.

Yama made an appearance in a couple, the fat man usually accompanied by a group of muscle and- there, in the back, almost hidden from view- a eyepatch wearing woman. Ren.

Hiro's eyes narrowed, not out of suspicion, but thought.

He peered closely at a particular picture, one where Yama and Yokai were talking directly- at the very edge of the picture, almost cut off completely, was Ren. There she stood, back straight and arms crossed, guarded. Her expression, a neutral one, did nothing to hide the look in her one eye, one of distrust. But that wasn't the unusual part, as every subject of the photo held that look- no, the difference was in were the distrustful look was directed. While the others all had their eyes on Yokai, expressionless mask giving nothing away, Ren's was angled away and toward the unknowing back of Yama.

A quick once-over proved that all pictures with her were the same. Always in the background with the same deadly glare directed at the crime lord.

_Oh._

The note suddenly made sense.

His ‘connections’ had come through after all, giving him what he’d paid for.

Guilt twisted in his gut, reminding him of the disrespectful words he’d thrown at a particular cyclops woman, which were now uncalled for- well, slightly uncalled for, since they still remained partial true. Still, it occurred to him that, maybe, he had been too early to judge.

 _You didn’t give them time_ , a little voice nagged, _don’t expect everything to be perfect and get angry at others when things don't meet up to your high standards._

Tadashi had always told him that nothing would work on the first try, Baymax being a testament to that. Though he was talking about machines, Hiro liked to think that people were just the same. Given time and patience, even the most antagonistic of people could find some sort of coexistence, achieving a place in which they could properly work and benefit each other.

And that included criminals and superheroes.

Strangely enough, the voice of Fred spoke up in his head. _The enemy of my enemy is my friend._ No doubt ripped straight out of the colorful pages of a comic book, but, Hiro thought, true nonetheless.

Hiro let out a puff of air, wrinkling his nose when it bounced off his visor and back at him, reminding him that he hadn’t been keeping up with his dental hygiene. He supposed he would have to thank them- but only _if_ he saw them again. No way was he going to admit he was wrong, not when they were too for pairing up with Yama and Yokai.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and focusing back on what was in his hands.

Finally, he had more information to work with. He was that much closer to cornering Callaghan and succeeding in keeping Tadashi safe from the man and his hired help. After that, it was all about how he’d get back home.

There had been nothing on the flash drive he’d stored Krei Tech’s Silent Sparrow knockoff on, nothing that he could use anyway or hadn't already known (rendering the thing nearly useless in terms of exploiting). Most of his time spent going through the files consisted of blocking any possible hackers and covering his tracks, the ever constant paranoia making him overly cautious. The time portal had been a prototype, still in the theoretical stages of its creation; the scientists had achieved progress, but actual success had been a hopeful dream. The best thing to do with all that information was to keep it out of the wrong hands.

But now, now he had information that he could actually use, that was relevant to this time period. He knew of possible gatherings and designated meetups of individuals who would know the right rumors and know the right people.

His thoughts drifted to the man he’d cornered and bullied information out of and hopefully scanned through the papers. He grinned, spotting the face on one of the pictures near the back and finding him again in the fuzzy background in a sea of faces centering the Callaghan-turned-Yokai. On the back, a name and address.

Time to bring the fight to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so sorry for the late update. Hopefully, this was a one time fluke (fingers crossed).  
> And, as always, remember to comment and kudos- it’s what keeps this fic going!


	10. First You Fight, Then You Fall

The nightlife of San Fransokyo was known to be everlasting. One could always find something of interest happening in one of the city's nooks or crannies, no matter how late or how early. Night after night after night there was a never ending cycle that captured the lost souls of the dark and gave them a chance to feel like they belonged- if only for a few hours. Once the dark made its move it was a whole new world, one where troubles and the harsh realities of life were taken and locked away (only to resurface their ugly heads with the rising sun).

But in those moments, where not even the anxious thoughts of the mind could dampen the high.

"Hey, Damato." The young man was thrown out of his thoughts, looking up from his drink and turning at the sound of his own name. One of the bartenders of the local club inclined their head to his left. "You got a visitor."

Damato frowned, twisting in his seat to spot the newcomer, but didn't see anyone besides the regulars mingling about the club. A few individuals on the dance floor caught his attention, bodies moving in time with the loud music's beat, but soon lost it.

He was just opening his mouth to voice his confusion when he inhaled a large puff of someone's recreational laxation. He coughed, reaching for his drink. The cool liquid ran down his throat soothingly while a stranger's hand patted him on the back, doing wonders in their effort to stop his coughing.

Clearing his throat, Damato turned to thank the stranger, only to choke on his drink and spill the rest of it. He swatted the hand away when it attempted to pat his back again, choking out a, "No, no, no..."

He recognized that jacket, that bandana, and _those_ eyes.

It was the lunatic who had- quite literally- jumped him the day prior.

Damato groaned, running his hands through his hair in distress, wishing the figure in front of him would disappear. He was half-attempted to throw something (maybe his drink), but that would lead to the destruction of peace and a ban from the establishment. This was his favorite club, the drinks were cheap and no one asked too many questions. "Not you. Anyone except you."

The hero raised an eyebrow. "Expecting anyone else?"

"No. I just try to keep away from people who attack me in alleyways," he grounded out, trying to fully vocalized his displeasure and give the hint that he didn’t want anything to do with the stranger. By the way the other lifted his other eyebrow to join the first, it wasn't taken as seriously as Damato had hoped. So, instead of banging his head against the bar's counter like he wanted to, he sighed, defeated, rubbing his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Was just coming to visit you. See how you were doing." The fabric covering the lower half of his face shifted as the mouth underneath it smiled, amusement in every syllable. "Make sure I didn't rough you up too much, which, you know, I didn't."

But Damato wasn't fooled by the blatant lie, not for a second. His line of work as an informant had carved into him the suspicion of those who seeked him out early on. Only people who made trouble wherever they went wanted what he could provide.

And this kid, for he was no older than Damato himself, was a guaranteed magnet for trouble.

"You must be crazy if you think I'm telling you anything," he said, getting straight to the point. He paused, suddenly feeling confident as a thought came to him, and continued, "And you can't have your way with me with all these witnesses here. Now just leave me alone, will you?"

He leaned his elbow on the counter behind him, casually signalling to the bartender to refill his drink. The man behind the counter nodded, pouring alcohol until his glass was half full and then proceeding to wipe down the counter.

But Bandana-Boy didn't look at all put off by the small bump in the road. He nodded, "You're right, I can't do anything while you're _here_."

It went unspoken that as soon as he left the safety of the club or found himself alone he would be cornered and forced to talk. Usually, no one would dare do that to him (as if he were a common civilian), his known connections enough to have even the most brash back down in fear of conflict. But this young man was new to the party and didn't know his place- _He would soon enough_ , Damato thought sympathetically as he brought his drink to his lips, thinking that this was a hollow victory indeed. But, just as he pressed the cool glass to his lips, his companion spoke again.

"But I can rat you out." He swiveled his stool to face the dance floor, eyes raising to inspect the rotating lights that were suspended from the ceiling. “You wouldn’t want word to get out that you spilled, would you? What would that do to your reputation- your business, I wonder.”

Damato's eyes narrowed at that, previous sympathy forgotten, lowering his drink as he tried to find a niche in the other's facade that could call his bluff. But his ex-assailant didn't back down, meeting the informant's stare with an equally impressive one.

Finding no crack in his defense, Damato leaned back and sighed, breaking eye contact as he shook his head and took a giant swing of his drink, finishing it in one go, and made his decision.

"Well, hey, it's your funeral," he acquiesced, shrugging. "I'll tell you what you want to know," he held up a hand and gave the young man a stern look (not unlike one he would give his sister when she was being difficult), "on the promise that you tell no one where you got the information. Ever."

The agreement was made with a nod and an absent wave of the hand as his companion angled himself to once again face Damato.

"I want to know everything you have on Yokai." From a pocket inside the folds of his jacket came a small pile of pictures. Eyes so intense they could cut through metal zeroed in on Damato, watching as he fidgeted at the casual mention of the masked man.

Of course it was about the creepy guy with the shadows at his fingertips.

Rubbing his neck, he peered at the pictures splayed out in front of him, noting on the few with his blurred face in the background. "Even with my sources, finding out who-"

"I don’t need to know what's behind the mask.”

Damato turned to him, surprised. Odd, everyone and their mother were hounding him for clues on the mysterious man behind the Kabuki mask. “Then what do you need me for?”

“I need to know what he’s doing and where he’s doing it.” There was an air of urgency in his tone, not in desperation, Damato saw, but in calculation.

The informant didn't speak until a group of intoxicated girls had passed by, one of them sending a wink his way, and leaned forward. “Well, I heard people are complaining about the oil running through the sewers, saying that they can see it through the drains."

Damato licked his lips, tasting the metal of his piercing. “But any homeless guy can tell you there’s no oil in the sewers- which leaves it to stand that something else is running through them.”

"Microbots..." His ex-assailant breathed, so quiet that Damato almost missed it. His eyebrows furrowed, confused and interested all at once.

"What's ‘micro-?’"

"Is he still there?" Damato's upper arm was grasped in a tight hold. "Which section of the sewer system specifically? The one running under Aiku Center or downtown or the-?"

"You need to back up," he instructed immediately, glancing around and spotting the curious look the bartender was sending their way, "and calm down- you're going to make a scene."

Brown eyes flickered up, confused until seeing the white knuckled grip on Damato's arm. Understanding -and was that sheepishness?- flooded his gaze as he let go and settled back into his seat. And, thankfully, a quick look proved that the bartender had lost interest.

"Now, as I was saying, that was a few days ago and already seems to be outdated, but," he said pointedly, stopping the interruption that was coming, "there's been talk of movement downtown in an old, abandoned warehouse. Apparently someone set shop inside- neighbors complaining about the noise and whatnot- not that anyone is going to go to the Kōban about it. That'd be like calling the hounds on yourself."

The masked teenager blinked, long and slow. "Are you talking about the one near the highway entrance near Fuwa Boulevard?"

Damato nodded, "That's the one."

There was a moment where the other didn't move, frozen in place as if he were one of the ice cubes in Damato's drink. But, before he could delve deeper into the thought, he unfroze and was in a fury of action. The pictures were quickly scooped up and shoved back into his jacket, gone before Damato had time to nick one. Soon he was flying out of his seat and through the maze of tables, knocking over chairs when there was no way around them. There was only a slight scuffle with the bouncer, who was not at all pleased with being pushed by, before he was out the door in record time.

Damato was left there without even a goodbye (or thank you)- not that he was heart broken over the fact.

Rather, he grew anxious. So anxious in fact that he ordered another drink to sooth his nerves, gulping it all in one go and grimacing when it didn’t go down as smooth as he would have liked. He sat there for another short minute, or two, maybe three, tapping on the counter restlessly until he’d had enough.

Without further ado, he rose from his seat, throwing down a few bills and pulling out his phone as he headed for the door. The noise was no better outside, the music muted, but the people were just as loud; he dialed and waited, eyeing the individuals lingering on the streets corner. The call was answered on the third ring and he was speaking before the person on the other end even had a chance. “We’re going to have a problem…”

* * *

Honey Lemon was a constant visitor to the hospital while it housed the particular patient of Tadashi Hamada. Second only to the Hamada family.

The tall girl would skip into his room, purse swinging and filled to the brim with whatever she wanted to show or give Tadashi, and call out a happy greeting, smiling as if the sun never set.

"Morning, Tadashi!" Came the usual greeting in the usual singsong voice. "Look at who I brought!"

Tadashi tore his eyes away from the nurse injecting a needle into his arm and looked up to see Fred and Wasabi trailing after the tall girl, each carrying excessive amounts of gifts.

He laughed when he saw Wasabi falter at the sight of the needle, turning back to the nurse momentarily and cracking a joke at his friend's expense. The man chuckled, capping the needle and depositing it, along with his gloves, in the disposal across the room before making Tadashi promise to take his meds. When the request was met with a round of assurances the nurse sweeped out of the room with a pleasant smile, leaving them alone to catch up.

"Yo! Tadashi, my man!" Fred unceremoniously dumped everything he was carrying on the small table next to the bed, not noticing how half of it slid to the floor not even a second later. Wasabi muttered something Tadashi couldn't hear under his breath. "Back from the dead! Awesome."

Honey chittered her distaste at Fred's choice of words, but Tadashi laughed. Now that he was pass the worst, he found he could joke about it and appreciated Fred for doing the same. The feeling was coming back in his arm, his mood rising at every doctor visit.

"How have you been?" He asked, accepting the small teddy bear Honey presented him, momentarily glancing over it to read the 'Get Well Soon' stitched into its stomach. "What have you guys been up to?"

Honey laughed, “Oh, you know, the usual… I went shopping and found a really cute top, with frills and everything. After that, I ran the numbers for my boutique's weekly sales- great, by the way- and then I picked GoGo up from the police station," She settled a vase on the bedside table, priming a flower or two. "Besides the little interrogation, everything went smoothly. Then I-”

"Woah, woah. _WOAH_. What?" Wasabi, who was in middle of depositing his bag on the floor, sputtered. He held out a hand, palm up, to stop the hispanic from continuing on. "Can we backtrack for a second? Gogo's in jail?"

"Well, no," Honey corrected, "not anymore."

The aspect of GoGo sitting in a jail cell wasn't new to Tadashi, who'd gotten the call from the authorities more than once (Honey Lemon probably had more experience than he did). Usually for a small violation, nothing more. But he didn't feel it necessary to tell the others that so he kept quiet.

"What'd she do this time?" Wasabi raised an eyebrow, his earlier surprise fading, an expectant expression on his face that matched his reprimanding tone. "Assault an officer?"

Honey frowned, "No-"

"Too many speeding tickets left unpaid?" Wasabi continued on, picking up Fred's mess.

"She doesn't-"

"Was she in a hit-and-run accident?"

"A fugitive running from the law," Fred piped up, grinning and pumping a fist. "Nice."

"No, it wasn't anything like that," Honey replied, voice taking on a defensive tone. She began to fluff up Tadashi's pillow just a little too hard.

"Then what happened?" Tadashi asked, placing a bandaged hand on the girl's and efficiently saving the poor pillow from being ripped apart. "Is she alright?"

Her gazed softened at the question and she gave him a small smile as she nodded. "Yeah, she's fine." She glanced sidelong at the others. "Just a bit miffed at that _misunderstanding_. She was supposed to come in again today for detailing so she told me to tell you she's sorry."

Wasabi coughed and flushed, busying himself with organizing the spilled contents of the table. Fred outright apologized and, though he did state how disappointed he was, amended how it was all for the best.

"What was the misunderstanding about?" Tadashi asked, still focused on the topic of Gogo's minor felony-that-wasn't. He was craving new information, news from the outside world, and catching up with things in his life was a must. Anything other than white walls and the dull setting the hospital's recovery ward provided.

The blonde's gaze snapped back to him, smile on her face freezing and appearing strained. "Ah, nothing really." She gave a high laugh and turned away from Tadashi, handing Fred a box of chocolates they had brought, who immediately took it upon himself to eagerly start scarfing the sweets down. She flapped a hand at Tadashi, her voice flippant. "Just, oh, you know how it goes."

He frowned, confused at her sudden reluctance. The reason behind an interrogation didn't just turn into 'nothing.' "No... I don't think I do."

Another high laugh followed, the girl looking unsure at how to respond, acting similarly like Hiro about to go running to a bot fight. Tadashi had many years with his brother trying to pull off a secret life (was it ever really a secret?), but he certainly didn't expect it from his friends- the same friends who generally couldn’t last a day of not telling him a little snippet of gossip about one of the others because, honestly, he was the only one who could keep the secrets.

"You know what," Wasabi suddenly declared, expression professionally neutral. "We shouldn't be talking about Gogo like this if she isn't here. It's rude."

Tadashi saw Fred open his mouth to protest, probably about to say something about how they had already said so much and how this was how their circle of friends worked (nosy and present through thick and thin), but was stopped with a pinch from Honey. The blonde gaped at the girl, nursing his newly acquired battle wound. But all it took was a quick look from Honey, a flicker to Tadashi and back, and comprehension seemed to dawn on Fred. "Yeah, totally, really rude."

 _They're keeping something from me_ , was Tadashi's first thought, his next being, _what and why?_

He noticed the change in his other two friends. Fred was stuffing the chocolate into his mouth by the handful, far more than necessary, providing an effective excuse that kept him from speaking. He only pointed to his puffed cheeks and shrugged as Tadashi turned to him for an answer.

Wasabi was no better, his whole attention on perfecting the positions of their gifts. He kept adjusting the angle at which the vase was, muttering about how it looked better when the shadow was at an exact ninety degrees; Tadashi wasn't one to point out his friends obsessive behavior, but that was where Tadashi drew the line.

It was almost insulting, how they underestimated him. Even with the amount of medication he'd been given, he could spot their abnormal behavior a mile away- honestly, they were as subtle as Baymax was vicious.

Tadashi knew, that if GoGo were there, he wouldn't be dealing with this, kept in the dark for whatever reason his friends had decided on. When something needed to be said, she wasn't afraid to be the one to let people know. But, he reminded himself as he watched Fred struggle to swallow the sweets he had not-so-wisely shoved into his mouth, Gogo wasn't there. He sighed and decided to let them off the hook (for now), with a small mental note to question the Korean girl when he saw her. "How's Hiro?"

There was a collective exhale of breath at his question, all of them obviously thankful for the not-so-subtle change of topic. They were soon talking over each other, eagerly reporting to him all that had transpired and all that they knew about his brother. The information they brought forward both calmed and nerved Tadashi- it certainly took his mind off the lies his friends were feeding him.

Apparently, Hiro hadn’t kept in touch with any of them. Text after text, call after call, his little brother hadn’t responded to any of it.

Of course his brother hadn’t said a word about his reclusiveness, or even about what happened while he was in his induced state, and that worried him. Tadashi had been there for his brother for his whole life, witnessing the ups and downs, the good and the bad; through the skipped grades and bullies, failed inventions, and karate lessons, everything was discussed and open between them.

Hiro needed people to talk to, whether he felt so or not. It wasn’t uncommon for the kid to immerse himself into a project, ignoring the world around him for hours on end, so Tadashi could only imagine how much of a hermit his brother had become during his time away. Not having the luxury of friends his age, Tadashi’s own were a unwelcomed blessing to Hiro, willingly to take the first step to initiate contact despite the rejection.

"I'm worried about him." Tadashi told them as he rubbed an eye, blinking an eyelash away. “If I’m not around, he’ll definitely get himself way over his head with whatever he’s focused with.”

“He quit bot fighting, didn’t he?”

Tadashi shook his head. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean there’s not anything else to tempt him. He’s like a trouble magnet- a really, really strong magnet- one that stuff zeroes in on like a beacon.” The thought of Hiro going out and doing something stupid and crazy and he not being able to follow after was unerring and downright frightening. Left alone and bored, his brother was bound to collide with some unmoving force, whether or not it had something to do with bot fighting.

"Look after him, will you?" Tadashi implored, looking at each of them in turn. If he couldn't demand them to tell him whatever they were hiding, he could at least ask for a favor. "At least while I'm still..." He looked hopelessly around the room, motioning to the right of his body with his good arm as emphasis.

"Until you get back on your feet." Honey finished gently.

"Yeah, man, don't worry about it." Wasabi's large hand settled gently on Tadashi's not-injured shoulder, offering comfort. Tadashi had to crane his neck a little to look up at his friend, but didn't comment on the crick it caused him, not wanting to worry them anymore. "You'll be up and chasing after that little brother of yours in no time flat. Just you wait."

"Yeah," he agreed, offering a small smile, "I guess you're right."

There was a quick _snap_ and Tadashi looked over to see Honey Lemon smiling at her most recent picture. Fred peaked at it, offering two thumbs up at his friends.

"This one's for the scrapbook."

Honey giggled, back to her cheery self, her bubbliness spreading to all of them; she rushed over to the other side of Tadashi's bed, beckoning everyone to huddle in closer. "Ooh, photo! Photo!"

The air cleared itself of any unwanted tension as the three leaned in close to him, posing, and, with the snap of a lens, was cut off completely; now only a mere moment in their past, unimportant among the many others.

* * *

Running for his life wasn't something Hiro thought he'd be doing, much less from a masked villain in an abandoned warehouse. No, he had planned on visiting Tadashi, finally getting that well deserved one-on-one time with his brother. But, as it would seem, life had other plans.

Hiro panted heavily, from both exhaustion and fear. The chase through the city had left him winded and sore, Baymax somehow managing to evade Hiro at every turn, the robot’s inner workings giving way to surprising speed despite the marshmallow-like exterior. If that wasn't any indication that he needed to exercise more, he didn't know what was; all those private karate sessions with Tadashi had left him feeling just as tired, but this was _ridiculous_.

He wanted to scream at the robot, ask him why on Earth he felt it necessary to follow the lone microbot’s lead. Of course he had planned on doing the same when he got around to it, whenever that happened, but he certainly wasn’t going to lead anyone on a wild goose chase.

And why had the robot even activated in the first place? Bringing him back from SFIT hadn’t posed a problem, no mishaps to indicate he was active or would activate in the near future. Tadashi hadn’t told him that his project was active, but, then again, that was such a Tadashi-thing to do- making sure Hiro was supervised.

“I am not fast.”

How did a robot this slow make it out of his room without his knowing? It boggled his mind, almost overpowering in the exasperation he felt about the entire situation.

“Yeah, no kidding!” Fear and panic bled into his voice as he grabbed one of Baymax's hands and pulled him along, feet tripping over themselves in their effort to move as quickly as humanly possible. The soles of his shoes skidded and slid across the floor when two giant masses of microbots surged inward on either side of them, leaving him scrambling toward their only option, a tight junction between two heavy pieces of machinery.

Hiro pushed with all his might, propelling them forward and through the small opening. The sound of vinyl scraping against solid metal, high as it was, couldn’t drown the sound of the wave of microbots snapping out behind him.

Where ever they turned, microbots were shooting out from the shadows, blocking their path. Hiro wanted to scream at the door- Baymax proving beyond incapable in smashing it down- not knowing what to do when it remained locked and immovable.

He didn't waste any time as he guided them away from the entrance, his invention-gone-wrong making multiple swipes at them and sending them sprawling painfully up the stairs they were angled towards. He caught a glimpse of a figure stalking towards them on the catwalk, microbots rising behind them like a wall.

The face of an _oni_ , one from his worst nightmares, glared at him as it came ever closer.

Baymax had just enough time to pull himself to his feet before Hiro was pushing at him again, forcing him towards the window that they had snuck through to enter the building. It didn't cross Hiro's mind, on overdrive as it was, that the perimeter of the opening was far too small to encompass the nursebot's wide circumference.

“I am stuck,” the robot informed him from his position between the window frames, stubby legs twitching uselessly.

“Ugh, we don’t have time for this,” Hiro muttered, urging the nursebot to do something as he pushed, hands sinking in the cushion of vinyl. His frustration leveled into fear when he took a running start to push at the robot's behind and the world turned upside down in result, Hiro somehow flying through the swivelling window and hanging from its frame, outside.

He allowed himself to look down once and regretted it instantly, finding the sight of his dangling legs over a _too high, way too high_ drop nauseating. "Baymax!"

Suddenly, there was the horrible sensation of falling, but then there was the feel of two big arms encircling him. He glanced back at Baymax in surprise before the force of gravity had him bouncing off the nursebot's stomach and deposited onto the hard concrete, rolling with the momentum.

His head was pounding, brain pulsing uncomfortably against his skull, as he scrambled to his feet, fumbling hands pulling Baymax along with him. He was done with hospitals as of late, so he desperately hoped he didn’t have to go for more than a visit.

A clicking noise reached his ears, making him turn away from the path in front of him and send a fearful look at the warehouse; no dark mass erupted from the windows as he expected, the building opting to look innocent and abandoned. But the masked man was in there, Hiro was sure about it. He became paranoid, eyes glancing about, trying to locate where the man was undoubtedly watching them, from which window he would burst through.

Then something caught his eye, a flash of purple, the color attention-grabbing in the sense of its unnatural placement. However, it was gone before Hiro could angle his head for a better look, hidden almost strategically behind Baymax's lumbering form that bumped and stumbled into him.

Hiro shook his head, dispelling the thought with the blame of a stressful mind, taking Baymax's hand for the millionth time that day and backtracking the way they had come, back to society and safety. Though he did glance back once, but by the time he had pushed aside the robot for one last look there was too much distance between them and the warehouse, it shrinking into a small dot before being swallowed by San Fransokyo's alleyways.

* * *

Hiro saw his younger self scamper away from his position behind a dumpster, tugging an uncoordinated Baymax behind him. As they turned the corner, the robot’s head rotated to peer back, black eyes scanning and landing on Hiro with that knack that was solely Baymax. However, he tried not to dwell on the robot and what those blank eyes told, instead focusing his sights on the warehouse, eyeing it like a viper ready to strike.

Callaghan was in there this time, all he had to do was lure him out.

“Callaghan!"

His call bounced against the building, spreading out into the open space neighboring it. It was a call so loud it couldn't be ignored. A moment too late, he realized that his younger self could’ve heard and quickly looked back in case a scrawny form came sprinting back (thankfully none was).

That was the wrong thing to do and he knew better. He couldn't count how many times Gogo had scolded him for his carelessness- _Are you trying to get yourself killed?_ , she had growled as she pinched his ear and pulled, drawing a yelp of pain, _Never turn your back on the enemy, you hear me? Never._

He turned back around when he heard a crash, eyes widening as he took in the black spike shooting through the air, aimed for the invisible target on his face. A yelp that was anything but masculine escaped him and he stepped to the side to avoid being impaled, staring at the spike as it skimmed past his chest armor and into the ground.

That was what he got for calling out to a temporarily deranged man, he supposed, the blame entirely on him.

Spinning on his heel, he aimed a quick kick at the mass, chipping off an outer coating of microbots. It didn’t do much besides that, more bots flying in to replace those lost ones, but it helped slow them down, if only for a millisecond, which, in turn, gave him time to back away.

Callaghan was outside- he didn’t see him, but he knew the man had to be lurking somewhere; he sidestepped behind the ravaged car he’d spotted a while back, blindly reaching into one of his pockets. He let out a small, relieved “yes” when his EMP handheld was in his grasp, but his excitement cut short when he was brought back to reality, ducking when the roof of the car caved in from the weight of hundreds of microbots slamming into it.

He cursed when he realized that he didn't have time to refine the device to specific settings.

And so, without any grandeur, he activated the electromagnetic pulse.

He turned around just in time to see the microbots freeze a centimeter from his face, the point centered between his eyes. He jerked his head back in surprise, watching as they cascaded down to the ground like a black waterfall. Only those near him were affected, the rest slinking back (really, how specialized had he made his microbots?) to the warehouse’s entrance.

Pocketing the device for safe keeping while it charged, he made a dash to the collection of scrap metal (parts of washing machine and an older model of a 3D printer) that was deposited on the side of the rundown road- not an uncommon sight in downtown- pressing his back against his small cover. He waited, counting the seconds in his head before peeking out.

In the middle of the sea of microbots, the familiar figure of Callaghan’s alter ego stood. The mask was turned away from him, searching the clearing, not the area behind him. Callaghan hadn’t spotted him earlier, or had lost sight of him when coming out into the open and he himself went for cover. Well, that was some dumb luck.

As quietly as he could, Hiro snuck around the pile, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling starting to form at his shoulders from his crouch. He stopped momentarily when he heard Callaghan move, catching sight of a car on the farther side being upturned and then thrown across the clearing. He watched the vehicle make its arc across the sky and take a tumble against the ground, rolling to a groaning stop.

Callaghan rose, microbots building up from beneath him, for an aerial view. A view that would surely prove just how in the open Hiro truly was.

It was go time- all or nothing.

He rushed forward, rockets shooting out behind him as he flew at the man, wasting no time. Last minute, Yokai twisted as if sensing him, attempting to maneuver without losing his perch atop the microbot-made tower. Despite knowing he was going to cut it an inch short, Hiro lunged for the mask anyway; he wasn't at all surprised when he just grazed the thing, fingers grasping air in disappointing failure.

Focused as he was, Hiro almost didn’t duck under the side swipe made at him because _wow, Callaghan can throw a punch._ He grabbed the man’s forearm instead, twisting and bringing his elbow back to create some imbalance.

In the end, they fell, Callaghan tumbling right after Hiro and the microbots a disorganized mess around them. His rockets flared, slowing their descent and he once again reached for the mask. A thick branch of microbots suddenly materialized and knocked him back, forming a spherical shield of sorts around Callaghan, efficiently blocking any efforts of snatching the neurotransmitter.

They settled on far ends of the clearing, eyeing each other through the no man’s lands between them. The microbots expanded out, but still keeping close to Callaghan, gaining ground inch by inch. Hiro kept his hands ready at his sides, the gloves wrinkling as they curled into fists and thoughts about how close he had been and how his own efficiency was lacking swirling in his head.

The professor’s face was hidden and he himself was silent, giving away nothing of what he was thinking or planning. Hiro hated it, not knowing what to do and how the man would take his actions.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said finally, taking the risk. He motioned to the warehouse, where millions of microbots were lying in wait and millions more were in the process of being created. “This isn’t you! Stealing tech, faking your death, attacking kids-” He struggled for the right words, anything that would snap the man out of his self-induced revenge plot. “What would Abigail think?”

He was answered by the converging of microbots, rising like a tidal wave.

"Uh oh." He dodged to the side, somersaulting when a string of microbots lashed out at the ground beneath him. He hopped to his feet and met the black tendril aimed at his face with his own fist, watching as the small tech crumbled at the contact. “Okay, I know she's a sore subject for you- I get that, what you're feeling, with her gone and-”

Seeing the microbots regroup and bond together, forming a giant fist-like shape, Hiro's shut his mouth with an audible clack. A not so small part of him desperately wished that he had Baymax alongside him (a rocket fist would’ve been handy- more than handy, nearly unstoppable) while the other was reevaluating whether or not dealing with this mess all on his own was a good idea.

In the end, he ran.

He sprinted, trying to outrun the descending shadow (puberty had given him the gift of longer legs and he was thankful for it now) and, when it seemed to be upon him, he lunged the last remaining feet. However, the solid form of microbots clipped his heel, sending him tumbling into the brick sidewall of a building.

The teenager threw himself to the side, just missing being impaled. He crawled awkwardly through the hole in the wall made by the attack, his helmet highlighting the major structures of the building, noting the dwindling support of the pillars and crumbling patches of floor toward the back end of the large room.

"New angle, look for a new angle," he muttered to himself as he searched his surroundings, stepping over glass and bottle caps. He was in another manufacturing warehouse, if the tattered industrial assembly line was anything to go by. No power, not even a backup generator, he surmised as he took a couple steps more into the space. Well, he coul-

"Oh sh-!" Something- he had a pretty good guess- had wrapped itself around one of his legs and pulled, tripping him flat on his face. He twisted and turned, trying to break free when he saw they were dragging him back out the building- back to Callaghan; hands frantically swung out in hopes of making its mark, but the microbots were evasive, disconnecting where his fist came in contact without breaking their hold on his ankle. "Oh, no you don't," he growled suddenly, kicking out with his free leg and activating his rockets. Flames, screaming as they exited the busted up thrusters, burned the small tech, breaking their bonds and shooting him back. It allowed Hiro to twist out of their grasp and stumble away from the hole.

The rustling of metal sounded out behind him and he didn't have to turn around to know that he was being followed.

He quickly made his way toward the main machinery settled in the middle of the room, leaping onto the conveyor belt. Grabbing a lever that he recognized from his days spent in the SFIT lab (thank goodness for manual overrides), Hiro put all his weight down on it, rewarded with the rusty anvil attached to it high above slamming onto the assembly line with bone crushing accuracy, centimeters away from missing Hiro's foot as he stumbled from the force. The microbots following him were halted, crushed like ants under a boot.

Hiro was just lifting the heavy machinery up for another attack when a hard hit knocked him off his perch, sending him sprawling on the floor. His head whipped around, eyes alert, taking in how hundreds of microbots lined the walls surrounding him, like hundreds of metallic spiders. He dodged under the belt, slipping behind the main controls of the assembly line, back away from the main mass.

He flipped a panel on his gloves- he had one last ace up his sleeve and he was going to use, even if it depleted all his suit’s power.

Electricity crackled from his hands, which he extended out toward the masses. The small tech jerked and convulsed, falling like dominoes as the shock ran down their numbers. He grasped the conveyer belt metal frame for good measure, destroying those advancing microbots as well. They continued to rain down from the ceiling, clinking against his armor and the ground, as he pushed his suit to its limits; a warning blinked onto his helmet's screen, showing the drastic decrease of available power and how long until automatic system shutdown.

"Just a little more..." he grounded out, eyes flashing in the direction of the mound of black was slowly rising from the rest, shaking in their effort to keep together. The attraction force between each individual microbot was weak and only needed a little push to crumble, leaving Hiro victorious. All he needed was just a smidge more power and time, hard pressed for both.

The main mass of microbots rose higher despite their unstable element, blocking the light shining through the hole in the wall and the dirtied windows. Hiro grimaced, feeling a trickle of sweat drip down his neck as he readied himself.

Still, for all he was, he was unprepared with how forcefully they slammed down, cracking the cement floor and leaving only a crumbling hole where it once was; it rushed forward, towards him, bending and demolishing the entire production line along the way. Hiro stumbled back, pieces of debris hitting him with enough force to make him trip on a stray pipe. He didn't see the attack from the side until he was pushed back with enough force to send him across the room.

He skidded and rolled, banging every crook of his body into the ground, the sound of his armor screeching loud in his ears. The air left his lungs as the mass rammed him in the chest, stopping his momentum, driving him into the brick until it cracked underneath him.

The mass grabbed hold of his chest, coating his armor in black as it lifted him. Whatever attempt to break free was stopped as his arms were pinned to his side, but he struggled anyway. While looking for something to help him Hiro spotted the white face of the kabuki mask that appeared right before him, microbots bringing Callaghan to his height.

"Look, Callaghan, you don't understand. I'm-" Hiro blustered, fumbling for some kind of control over the situation.

"-finished here." Before Hiro could retort, the microbots threw him down, hard. They receded from his chest, letting gravity add the force already pushing him down to the ground; he could only think of one phrase as he felt the distance between him and ground shrinking, physics letting him know exactly this was going to play out.

_Oh no..._

Pain seared through him when he made contact with the cement ground, running down the length of his body in uncontrollable spasms. There was cracking and splintering, a shower of dirt and rocks and wood raining down on him, more pain processing until something in his head seemed to be jarred loose, rattling in his skull uncomfortably until it all faded.

It was with numb surprise that he found himself still falling after the initial pain, hitting solid ground a second time after the discovery was made. Like a ragdoll he layed there, watching as chunks of debris fall after him, eager in their desire to bury and seal him in this makeshift coffin.

He knew he had to do something, _should_ do something.

But he couldn't. His head was a jumble of brain tissue and thoughts, disoriented in how the world spun and tittered off balance, and for the life of him he couldn't get his muscles moving; his appendages lay limp just as his head was empty. His chest rose, hitching when his bent chest plate pinched his vulnerable skin, and he sucked in a pained breath, letting it out as another groan.

As the black in the corner of his vision grew and unconsciousness was closing in on him, he let his eyes flutter close and his head fall back. Behind his eyelids a familiar shape emerged, bright and plump and safe. It blinked and opened its arms, inviting and reassuring.

_There, there. It will be alright._

Hiro breathed out a soft sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, went on a week-long vacation. Here's that long awaited update.


	11. Origin Story

Hiro was pacing- back and forth, ten steps and turn, repeat- across his room, sock-padded feet making muted thumps on the hardwood floor. This type of thing wasn’t uncommon, having spent many afternoons mulling over a problem or an idea, but today was different.

Someone had tried to kill him.

Never before had something so impossible happened, even the utter absurdity of Baymax's 'drunken' state unable to lighten the entirety of the situation. It was like it was something out of those soap operas Aunt Cass (and Hiro, though he would never admit it- out loud anyway) watched. Who would want to kill him?

Scratch that. Who would want to steal his tech _and_ kill him?

"Tadashi." He jumped, his feet physically leaving the ground as he spun around; Baymax was staring at Tadashi's side of the room from his charger, fully back to his normal self. How long had he been lost in his thoughts for that to happen?

“Where is Tadashi?” The robot asked innocently, turning his focus from the carefully made bed to Hiro.

Hiro stared back at the robot, confused. Then he straightened himself, realizing that Baymax knew nothing of what had transpired since the night of the showcase, inactive the entire time; it was strange being the one to break the news, always being on the receiving end of it. He swallowed awkwardly, not sure how to phrase it, but, in the end, decided that bluntness was best for this situation. "He's at the hospital."

There was a moment of silence between the two as Baymax processed the information, and then, "I do not understand- nor do I have any record of this information." The robot carefully stepped out of his charging station, teetering to the corner of the bed. "Tadashi was in perfect health. There is no need for a doctor visit, as he is up-to-date with all vaccines set by the Department of Health and does not have a checkup scheduled.”

"No, Baymax, you don't- that's not..." Hiro sighed, rubbing his nose. He didn't really didn't need this right now, not after everything that had happened. "There was a fire and... he got hurt. Now he's in the hospital because of it."

Baymax continued to stare at the other side of the room, unacquainted to the fact that it housed thoughts of loss and death and destruction. That it cultivated them until they eventually slunk their way into Hiro's head, caught unaware and vulnerable, too busy longing for a brother who wasn't there and a time where his heart didn't feel like it was being crushed.

Hiro wished he could be like Baymax, oblivious- innocent even. Wished he could detach himself from this memory just as easily as he experienced it- deleting it off his hard drive of a mind, firmly believing he was better off without the pain. Wished he was a machine, existing in a world of wires and calculations that never varied- not like humans, unpredictable in their actions, shining like the sun one minute and then burning like it the next. Wished he couldn't recall every detail of _that_ night; like how the air shimmered from the heat or how bone crushing despair clung to him like ash on skin (brushed off, but never fully gone, seeping into his skin and lingering no matter how hard he scrubbed).

Wish he didn't remember how his feet were glued to the hot asphalt, keeping him in place when all he wanted to do was to move, to run. Run straight into the inferno after his brother (ever faithful), but _his legs just wouldn't move_.

So, he was left struggling. He would look up as he desperately pulled at his legs, watching with ever rising panic as broad shoulders disappeared behind smoke and a hat settled with finality on the ground before him.

 _No, please_ , he cried helplessly, _not now_. His body couldn’t betray him now, not after years of running from bullies and fleeing from thugs. Why here and now of all moments?

Something was festering in his chest- something that rose and crawled up his throat, threatening to break from its bonds and flood out of him. Something that was raw in its emotion, both brittle and indomitable.

He had to get in there, after Tadashi- tell him, warn him, be with him (Hamada Bros til the end, right?). The entire thing was going to blow and he needed to get out, because if Tadashi stayed in there he would never come out-

“-I detect an increase in your arterial tension and testosterone production." Baymax stepped in front of him, his form shading him from the light of the flames, a physical barrier between him and the burning building. "You are angry and scared, yet I cannot find the external factor for this reaction."

Hiro blinked away his daze, looking at the robot that was so out of place in this moment of panic. Strangers with blurred faces raced past, quickly disappearing as if they were never there to begin with, ignoring Baymax just as they ignored him. How could they fail to notice the lack of color on a canvas soaked in red?

"Are you feeling unwell?” Like flipping a switch, the fire was gone and he was back in his bedroom, flames replaced by walls and the heat paving way for the cool temperature Aunt Cass preferred in the house. His clothes were lying around him in its usual mess and Baymax was staring patiently at him. "Hiro?”

Hiro pressed his palms to his eye sockets, shaking the sudden headache away. He swallowed the strange lump in his throat, his voice coming out shaky for some reason. "Nothing. I'm fine- completely fine."

"The brain activity in your medial prefrontal cortex predates acute stress, which can cause negative, psychological, long term effects." Without any indication, Baymax's chest lit up, Tadashi's face appearing and smiling down at Hiro. "Shall I call Tadashi so that you may talk out your true feelings? It may clear up any unwanted stress that is currently ailing you."

"What? No, don’t call him! I don't need to talk to him! Everything's fine!" Tripping over his own feet, he hastily patted the robot's belly, hoping to turn off the screen. He swiped and hit even more furiously when the faces of his friends popped up beside Tadashi's. "And don't call them either! Don't call anyone!"

The faces popped out of existence at his request, much to his surprise and relief. Hiro let out a breath, taking a step back and looking up to meet the nursebot's steady gaze.

"Baymax, nothing's wrong," he said again, hoping the robot would listen and drop the subject entirely. And for a moment, Hiro almost believed it- that is, until Baymax spoke.

"Hypothesis: you are refraining from seeing Tadashi because you are scared." The robot raised a hand, pointing his index finger up like any teacher would when giving the correct answer. "It is common for individuals, especially those who have experienced the loss or near loss of a loved one, to experience fear of the replication of a traumatic situation."

"Scared? I'm not scared!" Hiro told the robot hotly, small hands balling into fists. "And I didn't lose- Tadashi isn't dead!"

Baymax ignored the boy's blundering, reaching out toward him. "It is okay to cry."

Hiro backed up, his knees hitting his bed, and fended off the big arms trying to trap him. "No, no, no- stop it. No hugging. I don’t need to cry and I'm definitely not scared."

The robot stopped his advances, "You do not require my care?"

Hiro felt almost guilt at the question despite the indifferent tone it had been asked in. However, it was soon replaced with annoyance at the robot's next words.

"-because based on the data I have acquired, it is my assumption that you have not yet dealt with the trauma-"

“I’m not traumatized!”

"My scans show differently." Baymax stated, matter of factly.

At this point, Hiro didn’t know if he preferred Baymax’s ‘drunken’ state or his normal one, not liking being probed with questions and sassed (which, honestly, was absurd because Baymax couldn't detect sarcasm even if his scanner was working at full capacity) when he didn't answer. He had more important matters to deal with than his emotional state (which was completely fine- he was fine). He sighed, "Look, everything's messed up right now and I'm just trying to figure out what's going on. I'll deal with my 'trauma' after, but the man in the mask is top priority. Got it?"

"I see." The robot's eyes clicked at they blinked, Baymax going still for a moment. Hiro desperately wanted to ask his brother why he added that feature because it was starting to get to him; it made Baymax less of a robot and more... human. "When he is released from the hospital, Tadashi may give some insight to the situation."

"Yeah right," Hiro shook his head, snorting despite the situation. "If Tadashi finds out he's going to kill me. I mean, I haven't gone to SFIT since the showcase, I almost lost you, I went to one of the worst parts of town, and I was almost killed by a crazy masked man." He counted the four strikes against him on his hand, thinking that even the small details wouldn't be in his favor either. “I’ll be dead before we solve this if Tadashi’s finds out."

"As it is detrimental to your health, the probability of Tadashi killing you is nonexistent. Statistics show that siblings-"

"No, it was an expression- an exaggeration." Hiro explained, suddenly tired. "I know Tadashi won't actually kill me. It just means that he'll be really angry with me when he finally comes back home."

"And when is he scheduled to be released from the hospital's care?" The robot inquired.

Hiro's eyes slid to the floor, unsure. "I... I don’t know..."

“With proper treatment, he shall make a speedy recovery and should be discharged accordingly,” the robot intoned, more confident than any doctor or nurse Hiro had spoken to. Hiro looked up, hopeful in a way that only a child could, and offered a small smile. The robot took a few steps forward, away from his charger, and peered down at Hiro. “I am sorry about the fire.”

There was small twitch in his chest at the apology, so straightforward and sincere in the way that Baymax only could- not at all like the grownups who ushered him quiet with baby talk and transparent words. Hiro found that, unlike those times, he actually appreciated it. “It’s not your fault, it was an accident-”

The words stopped as, like the explosion that created the universe (spontaneous and loud), he finally connected the dots.

The man in the mask had started the fire.

Hiro suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe all too well. One moment everything was fine, the next his breath was cut short, leaving him gasping, unable to stop. Control was no longer his, there being nothing he could do to regain it back; his body became heated, his heart beating so fast he thought it would explode right out of his chest, and his mind was whirling, attempting to keep the calm (and desperately failing) while it tried to figure out what about the situation made sense.

Not again. He didn’t have time for this.

He became dizzy, rapidly blinking away the masks that had suddenly materialized in his room. All of them variations the kabuki mask that haunted his waking dreams. Hazy and distorted, they became small demons, reminding him of horrible realizations and they burst into flames.

 _There's nothing there_ , he rationalized, _it's nothing but my imagination_. No ghostly villain was in his room, blood slathered mask staring him down; the attack was gone, no black mass reaching out to snuff out his life, and he was safe. Safe in his room.

But the flames were starting to grow. From the corners of the room did they erupt from, rushing up the walls, following a trail that spelled destruction, to merge with the masks.

God, his chest hurt. Why did his chest hurt?

Smoke, he surmised suddenly. He’d inhaled too much smoke and was finally feeling its effects- yeah, that was it, too much smoke.

Something soft pressed against his back. Hiro jerked back, surprised, about to shove it away when a voice came from the shape.

"You are not well."

And just like that, the smoke dissipated and he was left staring up at the origin of the voice, eyes meeting black pits. He'd forgotten Baymax was even with him, the robot unnaturally silent through his inner struggle.

Taking his silence as an answer, the nursebot shifted, pulling Hiro further into his pudgy belly. "In the current situation, it is counterproductive to inform you of your current state. Instead, I shall advise you to calm your heart rate. You have multiple, viable ways to do so: controlling your oxygen intake, meditation..."

Hiro took a shuddering breath, keeping his focus on the expressionless face before him, and willed himself to relax. He ignored the Kabuki masks decorating his walls and the fire that slowly receded into the floor boards, allowing the monotone voice to go on. His attention was on the words, but taking none of it in; the endless stream of them, nonstop and constant, were pulling him back to reality, wiping away the last of the masks.

Hiro didn't know how long they stayed like that, him in Baymax's embrace, but he soon found that he could breathe normally again. His muscles relaxed and he leaned into Baymax, almost content.

“Physical contact is known to be a positive calming treatment.” Not being giving any indication that his advice had been followed and satisfactory care had been given, Baymax's hand came up and awkwardly patted Hiro's head. "There, there. It will be alright."

Hiro considered pushing the robot away, his episode over, but surprisingly found that he didn't want to. The hug was... nice. It wasn't desperate like Aunt Cass' or out of pity from those he got from frequent Lucky Cat customers, but rather, it just was. With others, there was stress and sadness and judgement, something that Baymax offered nothing of. The robot thought it would help him and there was nothing more to it.

That kind of centered concern solely for him was something he hadn't gotten since the fire.

And so, he relaxed and settled his head against Baymax's inflatable form, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He couldn't help the slight curl of his lips when the robot's petting continued, actually starting to enjoy it.

"Thanks, Baymax." The nursebot retracted his arms as Hiro pulled away. "Really."

"You are my patient. I will continue to care for your health as long as I am functioning."

The simple statement had Hiro smiling now, albeit a small one. Despite the robot's exasperating behavior at times, he was starting to warm up to the giant marshmallow. Tadashi had built Baymax and it was reassuring to have something of his brother's nearby, something that didn't involve depressing thoughts.

… and there he was, back to thinking about Tadashi and, to an extent, the masked man.

This time the knowledge that the fire hadn’t been an accident didn’t paralyze him, but rather, had him questioning. Who was the man behind the mask and why had he started the fire? To steal his microbots? There was the incentive, but what spurred the initial desire?

"We need to catch this guy."

The thought, so abrupt in his mind, came barging through his lips without his say. It was different hearing it aloud, becoming a possible reality as he thought further on it.

"Will apprehending the man in the mask better your health?" Baymax’s question brought Hiro back to reality once more that night and he blinked to find himself staring at the familiar baseball cap innocently laying on the bed nearby.

Hiro thought of Tadashi, laying in his hospital bed for days on end, unresponsive. He thought of the burns and scars, of treatment and rehabilitation that would go on for days, weeks, months even. Of Aunt Cass's tired face, the house always becoming too quiet and bringing her usual exuberant personality down. And then he thought back to seeing the man in the mask, using his stolen microbots against him.

The cause of all their troubles- Tadashi's troubles and pains, it all came down to one man.

Hiro found himself getting angry. All too quickly, he felt hot and overwhelmed (not at all dislike before, but still different), his body wanting to do something- hit something. The earlier sensations from his little episode came back, only it wasn't suffocating, but invigorating. Revenge was due.

Every part of him agreed, his brain rationalizing it and urging him on. Hiro looked Baymax up and down, seeing past the pudgy white material and toward the inner workings. A vision came to mind, one that left Hiro thrumming with excitement; there were the beginnings of an unbeatable fighter bot underneath all that nonthreatening exterior, he just knew it.

So, when the robot repeated his earlier question, Hiro nodded his head and answered, "Definitely. But first, you’re going to need some upgrades."

* * *

Visiting hours were from eleven in the morning to eight at night on the weekdays, but fluctuated on the weekends. It was a fact that had involuntarily been edged into his brain and biological clock, which were both well-tuned in the habits and expectations of his friends and family.

It was this precise reason that Tadashi felt his lack of visitors so keenly.

His daily dose of life had been cut off, leaving him with only the white walls and dull sound of the muted TV bolted into the wall in front of him. He was left to amuse himself: prolonging conversations with the nurses, sifting through the comics Fred had left him, and, in an act of true desperation, casting shadow puppets against the light the lamp provided.

After ten minutes, Tadashi found himself leaning back into the pillows, groaning. He blindly reached for his phone, needing the distraction that the mindless apps provided; he flickered through his possibilities, opening and exiting them as his mood saw fit, for a good minute. Without thinking, the pad of his finger lightly tapped at the phone icon and he stared blankly at the dial pad when it unfolded itself.

Did he actually want to call someone? What would he even say if he did? _Hello, this is Tadashi and I'm lonely, drop whatever you're doing and come entertain me._

Scrolling through his contacts, he skipped over most of them, finding he wanted the company of not an acquaintance, but someone closer. Hiro was an obvious first choice. A familiar face that would have him breathing easier; his little brother could blow any negative thoughts out of his head with a simple, cheesy joke or disarmingly thoughtful talk of how much he cared for Tadashi.

But, really, his brother rarely, if ever, used his phone, constantly leaving it someplace or another (Aunt Cass had been amusingly exasperated when she found it in one of displays and then, a few hours after returning it, found it once again in the back of the fridge- Tadashi had just been amused). Never the one to go out, unless for illegal bot fights, so the possibility of getting an answer was pretty small.

_Incoming call..._

Tadashi raised his eyebrows, watching as his phone lit up with a call, an unknown number displayed on his screen. Just as it began, the device in his hand only vibrating once, the call suddenly ended, leaving him confused. It took him only a second to figure out what was happening and who was calling him, wanting to slap himself for his idiocy. The medication must’ve been getting to him if he couldn’t recognize the number he’d given his own robotics project.

But why would Baymax be contacting him?

Confusion led to his imagination conjuring up possible situations where the call could've been made and it eventually led him to groan in exasperation, silently wishing the best for the robot (then again, maybe Baymax would further his parameters after interacting more with his brother). It would be just like Hiro to fool around with Baymax when he wasn’t home; his desire for his body to heal faster so that he would be released grew, just so that he could protect the integrity of his robot. Granted, his brother wouldn’t do anything too damaging, always the one to follow the Hamada Rules, but that didn't mean the kid wouldn't bring Baymax along for the ride.

Though none of that explained the exact reason for the ended call from the robot in general.

Worry started to form as he thought over the possibilities of what his brother was doing to cause his project to contact him. _No_ , he chided himself, _Hiro wouldn't do anything to harm Baymax_. But to do something reckless... now that was a different story.

Had he snuck out again without telling anyone? Maybe gotten caught by those who wanted to hurt him? Panic was beginning to settle where the worry gave way, a sense of uneasiness growing in the pit of his stomach, gnawing its way up his chest. Whether or not it was a sixth sense or just gained intuition from past experiences, he knew that something was going down with Hiro- a hint of annoyance.

Taking a calming breath, he weighed his options.

He couldn't call Aunt Cass. No, she was probably passed out on the couch from a long day at the cafe, and, lest she find out and eat half the inventory in her distress, he should leave her be. His best option was to call his friends.

Honey Lemon picked up on the first ring, her chipper voice clear despite the late hour, " _Tadashi! Hi_!"

"Honey," he greeted, lips curving at the girl's infectious tone, "sorry, I know it's late and-"

" _It's fine! It's just me and GoGo right now- she says, ‘Hi,’ by the way!_ " Tadashi doubted that their friend had in fact said that, but didn't disagree with Honey. “ _Are you OK? Do you need me to stop by and bring you anything? Would I be allowed? If it's not too late, then I can totally-_ ”

"No, no, it’s fine.” He laughed, despite his worry. “Actually, I was calling to ask for a favor..." He went on to explain what he was asking her to do, keeping the weird feeling that lurked in his mind to himself.

" _Will do. Don't worry, we're on the case!_ " Even though he couldn't see her, he imagined her putting on her best serious face, a salute to go along with it. " _I'll call you when we find him_."

And so, when he ended the call, the horrible feeling had lessened, a small wave of relief washing over him. His friends would find his brother, he knew. 

* * *

" _We found him,_ " was the first thing Honey said when Tadashi picked up the phone half an hour later.

"Good," he sighed in relief, before asking, "where are you guys?"

" _At the pier._ "

"I guessed as mu- wait, the pier?" He backtracked, frowning. "Why are you at the pier? What's he doing at the pier?"

" _-pubescent mood swings..._ " He heard his brother trail off, the line familiar.

Honey answered, confused. _"Going on a walk with Baymax... who's wearing, well, Gogo said it's carbon-fiber underpants_ ," here, she paused and he could hear his friends questioning his little brother before Honey Lemon spoke again, voice perplexed and a bit amused. " _And karate. Baymax said he knows karate._ "

"Carbon-fiber... underpants...?" Tadashi muttered to himself, confused. What on Earth was Hiro doing that he needed carbon-fiber armor? No, wait, karate? He’d heard Honey right, karate was definitely involved for whatever reason.

" _Oh, Hiro, don't shut us out_." He could hear Honey tell his brother, voice gentle. " _We're all worried, Tadashi especially. How about we-_ "

" _-HOLY MOTHER OF MEGAZON!_ "

There was a _snap_ of a camera and then everything was abruptly cut off and, to Tadashi's rising horror, screams cut through the line, one so high pitched it made him want to plug his ears.

" _GET IN THE CAR!_ " Gogo's voice cut off Wasabi's girlish screams, demanding and urgent.

There was a scuffle, one filled with many voices trying to be heard.

"Honey, what's happening? Are you alright?" His back left the comfort of the many pillows decorating his bed as he sat up.

“ _That mask… black suit… We’re under attack from a supervillain, people! I mean, how cool is that? I mean, it’s scary, obviously, but how cool!_ ” Fred's voice was easy to pinpoint, breathless but the only one out of all of them laced with what could be labeled as excitement. " _You know, I've always wanted to be caught in the crossfire, to cheer on the hero once he, or she- either is cool, ‘cause I'm an equal opportunity kind of guy- shows up. They always do,_ " he assured everyone and, by extension, Tadashi. " _This is as damsel in distress as you can get_."

Anything more Fred was going to say was cut off, GoGo screaming at Wasabi, more so than before. There was urging by the others and then Wasabi’s frantic, _“Why is he trying to kill us? Why are you trying to kill us?_ ”

"What? Someone's trying to kill you?" This was something straight out of Fred’s comic books, not to mention out of Tadashi's nightmares.

There was an awkward laugh on the other end. " _No, no, no, we're fine. Completely fine. He's not trying to kill us- no one's trying to kill us, Tadashi-_ "

Fred's voice suddenly rang out, clear as day. " _CAR!_ "

There was a crash so loud that he jerked the phone from his ear in surprise, quickly bringing it back to hear the scratchy sound of the phone hitting something hard.

" _He's trying to kill us!_ " Tadashi sat up straighter at Honey’s screech. " _Where's my phone?_ "

Something close to the sound of something rubbing against a microphone came out on Tadashi's end for a few precious seconds, the muffled voices of his friends coming in and out.

" _Got it!_ " There was scuffling, even some bickering that Tadashi couldn’t place, and then, " _Yo, Tadashi, my man, wish you were here- well, no, I don’t, not really. We're dealing with a serious supervillain. Intense stuff. Dangerous stuff_."

“Fred, what is going on?” Tadashi demanded before his friend could go on a tangent, put on edge by what he was hearing. The voices in the background didn't help, Honey's pitching up an octave as she switched between demanding her phone back and insisting that Wasabi ignore traffic laws for now. “Is Hiro alright?”

“ _Yeah, the little man is a-okay. I don’t know what's going on, but, let me just tell you, it’s super crazy,_ " the comic geek explained to the best of his ability. " _Some guy in a mask is chasing us and totally wants us dead._ "

"Ch-chasing you?" Tadashi raised a hand as if to run it through his hair, but thought otherwise and brought it back down with a tense breath. Then the rest of the sentence caught up with him, the last piece of information sending his mind reeling. Fred continued on, unaware of the freak out he was in the process of prescribing.

" _Yeah, I don't know why. Maybe we know too much- I mean, we did see him using the little man's teeny-tiny robots- what's up with that? Thought they went down with the building._ "

“Hiro's microbots? That's... That's not possible- everything was destroyed in the fire.” Even as Tadashi repeated the fact a trickle of doubt entered his mind, threatening to pollute everything.

More yelling ensued, dominating whatever Fred was going to say. Tadashi struggled to figure out what was happening, unable to get anything useful until the noise dropped. " _Wasabi just put on his turn signal- so ridiculous, am I right? Wait, it's all good, GoGo took the wheel_."

Tadashi knew exactly how GoGo drove and didn't know whether it was for better or worse that she had taken control. Judging by Wasabi's high-pitched screams in the background, drowning everyone else's with precision, Gogo wasn't all that concerned with going by the rules at that point.

But, oh God, what was going on?

" _The gnome assassin is going for it. She- ow!_ " Obviously someone wasn't all that appreciative of Fred's commentary (neither was Tadashi per se, but it was better than being left in the dark). Soon enough, Fred was yelling in surprise, this time because of GoGo's extreme driving.

“ _Baymax can handle this guy-_ "

The relief of hearing Hiro's voice is replaced by unadulterated fear as it breaks off into a yell. Tadashi screamed his brother's name, right hand trembling and fisting the sheets underneath him with the best of their limited ability.

" _Seatbelts save lives._ " Baymax's voice, distant and almost lost in the sound of wind, spoke up. " _Buckle up, every time_."

Tadashi unconsciously nodded at the mantra, feeling some sense of closure knowing Baymax was still there, not lost in all the chaos and still able to care for his brother. Still, he asked with his one track mind, "Hiro? What about Hiro? Is he safe? Did anything happen to him? Is he okay?"

" _Yeah, he's buckled in for the ride- maybe I should put my seatbelt on, just in ca- whoa!_ " Fred swore so loudly that Tadashi would have reprimanded his friend, especially since it was done in Hiro's presence, if the situation wasn't what it was. There wasn't any time for his prim distaste for profanity, especially since any type of conversation was pushed to the side by thundering sounds, like they were in the eye of a tornado. " _Uh oh_."

Wasabi's wailing sounded like he was right beside Tadashi, " _We're not going to make it!_ " Honey disagreed with him, stubbornly positive, the two battling each other as whatever was happening happened.

 _Make what?_ He wanted to desperately ask. But it was useless, his pleas and questions lost in the chaos. He was detached from it all- to far away, too safe in his comfy bed at the hospital- for him to have a say in matters. He was just a bystander- a lone audience member that could not cross the stage and interact with the actors, but, rather, had to settle for sitting quietly in his seat and watch as the show progressed.

" _We made it!_ " There was cheering, but then it morphed into screaming-

-and then nothing.

It was abrupt, so rightly so that it took Tadashi a second to realize what had happened. Lifting it from his ear, he stared at the phone as the prolonged tone rang out, indicating the cut call.

_What._

“Alright, Mr. Hamada,” a voice floated into the air as the door to his room opened, his nurse making his last checkup of the day, “I know it's late, but let's take a look at that arm of yours before..."

The nurse’s smile faded as he took in Tadashi's expression. Or maybe it was because he was now acutely aware of his heartbeat banging in his ribcage, echoed through the machine next to him- yeah, it was definitely that; the beeping was at a sprinting pace, rudely barging in on the silence. The nurse rushed forward, checking his charts and calling for a doctor with a push of a button. "Mr. Hamada? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

All Tadashi's body could do in response was roll his eyes back and faint right on the spot.

* * *

His car was at the bottom of the bay.

Someone had tried to kill him and now his car was at the bottom of the bay.

And Fred had a butler.

It was all very hard to take in at once.

"If I wasn't just attacked by a man in a Kabuki mask, I think this would be the weirdest thing I've seen today- but it’s not," Wasabi said out loud, trying his hardest to wipe his memory clean of the atrocities that was his friend’s room. It was all for naught, the sights of the room still scaring him- all the while, the self-portrait was watching him in its entirety from where it hung on the wall on proud display. He groaned, "My eyes hate my brain for making me see this."

But really, none of that was important (should it have been?).

What was important was the fact that he didn’t have a car and he might be dying from hypothermia.

He continued in taking another step into Fred's audacious room, deeper into nerdom than he had ever gone before. When they reached the case of figurines, all shined and posed to immaculate degrees, Wasabi felt the need to lay down. He was going to freeze to death in the man cave of a nerd, he told himself sadly.

Well, at least Baymax was there to be their own, personal heater. The warmth trickling back into his limbs left Wasabi feeling like jello, wanting to leave the entire I-almost-got-murdered-by-guy-in-a-Kabuki-mask behind him. And for a moment, that's what he did. Left it all behind him and allowed himself to relax in the mass of warmth that was Baymax.

But, like all good things, it had to end and end it did.

"Do any of you know what this is?" Hiro asked, holding up his picture for all of them to see. It was a sketchy drawing of, what he thought to be, a sparrow encircled by a simple circle.

"Yes!" Wasabi refrained from face-palming at Fred's observation, "It's a bird!"

Hiro sighed, shaking his head. "Yes, but no. It's the symbol I saw on the tech that was being taken from the dock. None of you recognize it?"

They shook their heads.

Hiro ran a hand through his hair as he retold his experience at the warehouse (didn't the kid know how many hazard violations they could house?). Then there was the startling unveiling of the stolen microbots. But it wasn't the information given that really set Wasabi on edge, but the boy's tone when he mentioned the almost certain possibility of the fire being intentional- nothing was said outright, but it wasn't hard to connect the dots and see the correlation to a certain robotics engineer.

It wasn’t until talk of superheroes were brought up (and considered) that Wasabi snapped out of his thoughts, deciding that this had gone on for far too long.

"No! No, we are not doing this! This could get us killed or in some serious danger!" Wasabi cried out, wanting to tear out his hair because, honestly, were they even hearing themselves? "You do understand that people can and will get hurt, right? We don't want another attack like the one with Tadashi at the hospital to happen again. It's just-"

He cut off a moment too late, realizing his mistake.

Hiro stopped pacing. “What?”

A wave a chaos took over the room, sending everyone but Hiro and Baymax into some sort of babbling. Fred and Honey Lemon immediately started to give their explanations for his slip up, talking over the other, while Wasabi himself attempted to agree with one of them, only to halfway merge into the other's story.

“Nothing! I just said that it's dangerous and we shouldn't do it and you can't make me! That's it, nothing else. You know, we should just drop this all together- the plan, this topic, this conversation..." The flow of the burly, young man's speech heightened to previously unknown speeds as he squeaked out his words. He tried and failed to look everywhere except at Hiro, hoping to babble the nervousness away.

"No, you said something else," the boy countered, stepping forward almost menacingly despite the fact that he barely came up to Wasabi's elbow and was less than half his size. "You said something about an attack on Tadashi."

"No I didn't."

GoGo was going to kill him. No doubt about it, she was definitely going to kill him.

Sure enough, when he glanced the Korean's way, she was glaring lasers at him. Her jaw was tense as she chewed her gum and Wasabi swallowed loudly, looking away.

“What are you guys not telling me?” Small as he was, Hiro could sure put on expression so intense and fierce, far different than his brother.

Wasabi shook his head, crossing his arms in front of him. He was not going to be the one to make the situation worse, lest he come back to his lab one day and find it utterly destroyed. The situation in general had been dipping towards chaos and now, with Hiro getting involved, it would surely slip into insanity. “Nuh-uh, there’s no way I’m doing this. No way!”

Thankfully, it was Honey who caved (which was a relief, because, honestly, Wasabi could feel his will slipping and didn't know how long he could have held out otherwise), freeing him from the mess.

"It was Tadashi's third night at the hospital..." He heard Honey begin, voice soft and careful as if she was dealing with some of her more unpredictable chemical mixtures. But, having heard the story before and not wanting to worry himself into an early grave with more talk of Tadashi's predicament, Wasabi let his mind drift to less (but still decently important) heart attack inducing thoughts.

Now, how was he supposed to get around town without a car and no reliable transportation?

The bus? Metrorail? Trolley? He shuddered at the thought of setting foot in any one of them. Who knew what kind germs were growing in those kinds of places, practically a birthing ground for the common cold or worse.

"Why would anyone want to hurt Tadashi?" Hiro asked, breaking into Wasabi's thoughts.

"Maybe he's got a second life- one full of crime or, no, wait, as a vigilante!" Fred offered from his seat, sunk deep in a bean bag. "You can make a lot of enemies in your struggle to fight for what you believe in. I can just see it now...”

The comic nerd splayed out his hands, eyes unfocusing as he depicted the strange workings of his mind to them, "Scouring the streets for crime, twin katanas blazing like _whoosh, cling, shing!_ He stands there, expressionless of course, or, hmm, maybe a mask- masks are cool and mysterious... Yeah, let's go with a mask. And he's great at hand-to-hand combat- agile like a cat, strong like an ox and fierce like a rooster, a force no one can take lightly." Fred took a deep breath and kept going, unable to stop. "His enemies go down easy, like _wha-bam_ \- out cold. But, before any thanks can be given, he disappears into the night, swallowed by the shadows. And his name?" Here, the young man paused for suspense, before whispering, "Kitsune." He added an echoing effect for good measure.

GoGo slapped her forehead while Wasabi blinked, muttering a small, "Wow, that was actually pretty good.” None of it was at all close to reality, but he had to give praise where it was deserved.

"Cool, right?" The blonde asked. "You wanna hear his backstory? ‘Cause, let me tell you, it's going to blow your min-"

"Going to back to Tadashi," Honey pointedly butted in before the boy could branch out and start reciting a soliloquy, offering clarity. “GoGo found out and told us. We don’t know why, but someone’s after him. We’re just as confused as you, Hiro.”

“Do you have any leads?”

“Fujitas.” Here, GoGo growled so animalistic that Wasabi skittered away, frightened that she might just direct all her anger at him. “The man in the mask- everyone on the street’s been calling him Yokai- hired them.”

"Our main villain," Fred agreed, rubbing his hands together.

Then the conspiracy theories were brought up, courtesy of Fred, all directed at Alistair Krei. The guy acted like the stereotypical greedy businessman, so that was a bit deserved, but even then it was wrong to start pointing fingers and blaming others, without any real proof besides speculation he might add, for supposed arsenic. The man was a millionaire for crying out loud!

And he was a nerd without a car.

"I say we tell Tadashi _and_ the police." Wasabi's opinion was met with a scoff from Gogo, which he answered with a pointed look to let him finish. "I mean, they are equipped for this kind of thing and if I was Tadashi- heck, if I was the one being targeted, I'd want to know what's going on."

"No, no, we can't," Hiro mumbled, biting his thumb. "It's too dangerous to tell Tadashi and the police won't listen to us- won't believe us."

"But-"

"I said no." The boy's words had a finality to it, ending all discussion of his brother; the other's shared a look.

“If we stop Kre-Yokai, then we can stop the attacks.” Hiro argued, starting his pacing again. “They have to be connected. There’s no way they're both a coincidence.”

"But how do we find him?" Gogo asked, running a hand through frizzing hair. "I doubt he's going to be eager to have a heart-to-heart with a bunch of nerds."

"I may be of assistance," voiced Baymax from the midst of them all. The robot had long ago stopped radiating heat and had opted to silently watch them converse. Now, he spoke up, "In terms to my protocol, to provide a quick scan of any individual that comes in my proximity, I have information concerning the mask man."

Hiro perked up immediately, "A scan? Really?"

"Yes. His blood type is AB negative and holds a weight of one hundred and seventy three pounds. Based on fluctuating levels of brain activity I have diagnosed him with acute stress disorder, high risk of cardiovascular disease and emotional instability."

"Emotional instability?" Wasabi repeated, voice cracking. "Did you all hear that? In-sta-bility. You know what that means, right?"

"Borderline personality disorder, also known as emotionally unstable personality disorder - impulsive or borderline type or emotional intensity disorder, is a Cluster B personality disorder." Baymax informed him, screen lighting up to list what was said next. "The essential features include a pattern of impulsivity and instability of behaviors, interpersonal relationships, and self-image; other symptoms usually include intense fears of abandonment, intense anger, and irritability- the reason for which others have difficulty understanding, further alienating the subject at hand."

"Oh my g-" the big man said, fanning himself. "I think I'm going to faint."

While Baymax offered advice to prevent the young man from falling unconscious right then and there, Hiro grabbed one of Fred’s figurines, his back to them. “I’ll scan the city all at once.” The boy looked up, staring at their reflections with a pensive face before turning around, an idea in mind. "And when we find him, we can take the neurotransmitter back and he won't be able to hurt anyone else."

"As of currently, my scanners do not have the capability for a city wide search." The robot told them, offhandedly patting Wasabi's shoulder in comfort.

"Then we'll make them better," Hiro said with certainty. "We'll make them better and deal with this ourselves."

“How are we supposed to do anything?” Wasabi argued, motioning to the others. “We’re just nerds!”

“No, but with some upgrades...”

The implication of Hiro's words send a spark of alarm running through Wasabi; he looked to his friends, trying to judge their thoughts. Fred, science enthusiast as he was, was naturally excited and all in favor of anything that might feed his insatiable hungry for anything comic related. Gogo looked doubtful about the decision she would make, but, Wasabi saw, not the actual idea itself. Only Honey looked slightly concerned at the oath they were about to take, teeth worrying her lower lip as she glanced at all of them (but Wasabi lost hope the moment she set her shoulders straight and nodded determinedly).

Then everyone was looking at him, waiting; while Baymax’s stare wasn’t judgmental and actually calming, Fred was giving puppy dog eyes that were borderline creepy.

“I don’t know, Hiro-” He raised his eyebrows when the butler (appearing out of thin air and making Wasabi jump in his seat), offered him a thin stack of papers, manners dictating that he take them. “Uh... what’s this?”

“Master Frederick informed me of the unfortunate state of your vehicle. As he requested, I did all I could to find a replacement- all expenses paid, of course."

Wasabi looked back and forth between the butler and the papers disbelievingly, then looked at Fred’s grinning face, who was lounging in his plush chair. “What? A new car... where did- when did you..."

Heathcliff stood erect, hands lowered to his sides and face neutral (greatly contradicting with the beaming smugness of Fred just seen over the man's shoulder). "Now, if that is all, I shall prepare some refreshments and finger food for you all." The butler made his exit, four pairs of eyes following him, the door closing with an almost-not-there click behind him.

Fred leaned back, proud of himself (or of his butler). "Wait til you try his sandwiches- they're to die for."

There was a moment where Wasabi just stared, mind blank. Stared at his friends' expectant expressions for a long while, until finally, Gogo nudged him impatiently.

Jerking out of his reverie, Wasabi rubbed a hand down his face and sighed, glancing back down at the papers. "Fine, I'm in, _but_ ," he jabbed a finger in the air, making sure most of the emphasis was directed at his beanie wearing friend, "only if you promise that this is a onetime thing."

Surprisingly enough, Fred held his hand up, two fingers pointing to the sky, and said solemnly, "Scouts honor."

Gogo raised an eyebrow as she turned towards him, "Didn't see you as Scout material."

Fred frowned. "A what?"

Wasabi sighed, already regretting his decision. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

_Powering on..._

Sleep mode was turned off, optic lenses turning on and giving live feed instantly. Only two organic forms were detected in the vicinity, the closest currently in the beginning stages REM sleep- approximately ten minutes. Although circulation, respiration, and thermoregulation was at average, the current electrical and chemical activity in the brain was spiking. The other, older and farther away in distance, was in the third stage of Non-REM sleep and contently so.

Night vision was activated immediately, defining shapes of the Hamada household that the shadows otherwise obscured.

Two patients on record: Hiro Hamada and Hiro Hamada (2).

Both diagnoses were on file and brought up and studied carefully. The proper intel and information was downloaded without any problems, symptoms and treatments categorized and filed within his storage; other subcategories were recommended for download and aptly considered before saved.

Hiro Hamada (2) was scheduled for a check-up and an ingestion of medication in four hours, twenty seven minutes and fifty three seconds. He had scheduled a new analysis to be done in three hours’ time, setting the command to find correlation between his new information and past scans on hold.

He made his way toward the bed that was taken up, adding a visual for his data. Hiro Hamada rolled over, saying something too soft for his audio receptors to perceive. His health was satisfactory, allowing for a switch in patient priority.

While backing up Baymax made contact with the dresser, papers sliding past his visual feed. An observation was made: the space was more compact than what his initial guess determined. After repeated looks at Hiro, he followed the made out plan, executing a perfect six-point turn.

He rolled over to the doorway and came to an abrupt halt.

_Warning: Dangerous obstacle ahead. Proceed with caution._

A total of fourteen steps stood between Baymax and his goal (downstairs).

His internal servers calculated the success rate without aid, taking his wheels and the weight of his charger into account, calculating the angle of incline and deciding that it would be futile to attempt that course of action in his case. The current predicament would only result in the awakening in the entire Hamada household.

A new solution had to be found.

His mechanical mind whirled, procuring a list of possible options. Only two, when properly analyzed and theoretical simulations undergone, were found remotely plausible. The second was chosen in regards of time efficiency.

The top of his case retracted, allowing an opening big enough for his arms to unfold, inflating them only partially with minimal pressure to ensure the lowest volume possible.

Only when they were inflated to a capacity of sixty three percent did Baymax move.

His case was lifted off the floor when his arms straightened to their full length, balancing perfectly when his limbs bent partially and he stepped down the first step.

A quick computation had Baymax adjusting the angle at which his arms bent to a degree of two and a quarter. The adjustment proved correct and made his descent down into the Lucky Cat cafe all the smoother.

He rolled under the half door separating the counter from the rest of the cafe, past the dimly lit display that lacked its normal pastries and the tables that wore upside down chairs like party hats (he would tell Hiro (2) of the description, his patient always finding it strangely amusing). The lone water bottle that stood dejectedly on the window sill was picked up and thrown in a bin. _Reduce, reuse and recycle_ , came the motto from his searches on the Internet, directing him to change course to the blue bin instead of the black.

He stopped before the door, calculating the speed in which he could open it without the bell attached to it ringing. With the number on hand a millisecond later Baymax signaled for his probe to exit the case and turn the lock.

"Mreow?"

Pause.

Oculars turned and regarded the feline that had silently appeared at his side.

Mochi, his database supplied the name of the Hamada house pet. Calico. Male. A Japanese bobtail with approximately five years to its name, his scans indicated.

He rolled towards the door.

Mochi followed.

Baymax stopped, and rotated back to the cat. His probe wiggled as if to say ‘no,’ before moving once again.

Mochi padded forward.

Baymax stopped.

The calico cat’s round eyes were on level with the robot's own, impossibly large and staring curiously at Baymax. That fact alone was how Baymax’s surveillance picked up on the slight twitch in the feline’s jaw, a certain indicator of the upcoming yowl that would break the silence Baymax had worked so thoroughly to ensure.

A message was sent and received within his system.

"Hairy baby..." His voice modulator sounded out, volume lowered at the appropriate level, as the probe gently stroked the cat’s head. A deep rumble erupted from the animal's chest, vibrating in pleasure.

With a final pat Baymax opened the door and silently slipped out of the building- a quick three sixty of his apex showed Mochi watching after him. He waved in return, setting a notice to download more animal care into his database.

Once again on his way, Baymax accessed his GPS and located the tracking device he had slipped onto his patient. A necessary action, one that went beyond the confidentiality and privacy clauses in his protocols, but the pros outweighed the cons in his calculations.

His wheels shifted up and down in their niches of his case to accommodate with the uneven ground that was suddenly beneath him as he traveled from one district to the next.

 _The Flower Garden_ , his guidance system provided- the only information given with the coordinates he was receiving.

_Search: The Flower Garden._

_Two results found._

_Result one: Flower Garden, a coming of age novel co-written by Don Hall and Chris Williams. Summary: High school can be tough, especially when you're the new girl…_

The reference was saved and filed away for later use.

_Result two: The Flower garden, a roller derby rink in the 91407 area. Opened weekdays from 6:00 PM- 3:00 AM and 10:00 PM- 3:00 AM weekends._

Baymax checked the current time.

12:52 am.

He rolled on.

As he made his way through an alleyway, he opted to scan the scarce number of individuals who slunk their way through the night, just as Hiro had asked, setting deletion for those beyond a two day limit. None matched up to the scan of the masked man.

Fifteen minutes from initial departure and Baymax arrived at his destination.

Upon entering the building did Baymax adjust his optics light sensitivity, accounting for the low light as he made his way down the long, unfamiliar hallway. He stopped before a man leaning curiously out of an opening in the wall.

"Hey there," greeted the man. "And what might you be?"

Healthy and of Irish descent, his quick scan determined, the only abnormality being the above average amount of keratin in the individual's dermis and concentrated clusters of melanin along the span of his body.

"Hello, I am Baymax, a personal healthcare companion." He introduced himself, recalling the newly downloaded files on human interaction that needed to be tested. "It is nice weather we are having."

The subtle twitch in facial features indicated amusement, intrigued and recognition, though the later could not be considered concrete without further study, which was proven not possible with the subject at hand and his aptitude for hiding his true thoughts.

"The name's Connor, it's a pleasure to meet you," the man returned the pleasantries, reaching down and accepting the newly inflated hand Baymax was offering. "And yeah, I guess it must be really nice outside."

The robot labeled the interaction as a success.

"I must go now." He informed the man named Connor. "Goodbye."

There was no response, but a single nod. Baymax continued forward, wheels crushing flower petals, and opened the door, closing it shut behind him.

The roller rink was quite vast, especially when compared to the small (efficient) size of Baymax’s case. Yet, despite the fact, he made good time in trekking across it, avoiding obstacles and a small amount of people as he did so.

A quiet gurgle of muttering followed him as he made his way toward the large elevator on the other side of the spacious room.

“A lost bot?”

“-real nice paint jo-”

“-it belongs-”

“-onder what it looks like underneath.”

“-price, do you think?”

A thin clump of people surround the elevator, watching him as he made his way over. Two women with face paint eyed him curiously from behind colorful fans before abruptly stepping aside, pulling the others along with them. He blinked and inched forward, stopping before the door and searching with his limited vision for the control panel for the machine. Eventually he found it, four and a half feet above him.

“Here, I’ll just, ah... get that for you..." The man closest to him, middle aged and well-built, muttered. The robot followed the man's movement, watching as a lever was pulled in an downward motion and the elevator acted accordingly.

“Thank you.” Baymax offered a lollipop, previous interactions with patients supporting his positive reinforcement methods. His treat was accepted, albeit hesitatingly (Baymax added the data to existing files on the subject concerning older patients).

Then the elevator's gated doors opened and Baymax wasted no time, rolling into the confined space, turning so that he faced the doorway. "Thank you for your help. Have a nice day."

Then the gates closed and the lift set into motion, rising at a speed of three hundred feet per minute. Baymax determined that the ride would be considered more pleasant if there was a musical component involved- his studies showed that humans enjoyed music and found it soothing, often even therapeutic.

With a groan that had Baymax's interior vibrating, the elevator halted and opened.

Baymax had reached his destination.

It was a room- more of a group of open rooms forming a complex maze of walls and furniture- that looked be an equivalent to a household. He scanned the area, discovering hallways on either sides, leading to more of the home; his scanners led him to the one on the right, which in turn lead him to a small bedroom. Settled in a bed in the far right was his patient, Hiro.

The nursebot wasted no time in rolling over there, ignoring the knocking tempo his wheels made when the trekked along the uneven floorboards. He stopped and positioned his case in the decently sized space between the bed and a turquoise dresser across from it.

The inflation of his body was quick and efficient, happening in a matter of seconds, the vinyl exterior expanding and stretching into a familiar form. His skeletal frame easily took the necessary measure to have him walking up to his patient’s side and reaching out to place a chubby hand across his forehead.

A scan was initiated without fail. His inner thermometer took a reading of thirty five celsius- _a mild case of hypothermia_ , his system diagnosed. _Symptoms spotted include shivering, tachycardia (increased heart rate) and tachypnea (abnormally high breathing)._

Hiro's eyes fluttered momentarily at the touch, as if to wake, but settled a mere second later, slipping back to sleep.

Black optics stared down his form, taking in the fact of the bandages already wrapped around the boy’s arms, torso and head. By the folds of the blanket there also seemed to be a brace tied to the length of his left leg.

His patient hadn’t adhered his advice, his earlier injuries not fully healed.

"What are you doing here?"

Baymax swiveled his head a clear hundred and thirty-five degrees, observing a woman walking in his direction, holding a pitcher and two mugs. Her body posture was stiff and aggressive, showing hostility. At him, he theorized.

"I am here to check up on my patient," he informed the woman. "I am Baymax, a personal healthcare companion."

"Your-?" She stopped advancing towards him, understanding washing her features. Her eyes, a deep obsidian, flickered to the bed and the body lying there before returning to him. “You're here for the kid.”

"Yes," he stated matter of factly before moving on. "I do not have you on any of my files, which leads me to conclude that you know none of my associates or even my patient personally. Who are you?"

The woman blinked, an action he returned readily, before walking slowly forward to place the pitcher carefully on the small table next to the bed and pour herself a drink. She then arranged herself to lean comfortable against the wall, cupping the beverage. "Ren. I own the place."

“Hello, Ren. How did you come to be the caregiver of my charge?”

She choked on the liquid- tea, going by the odors wafting from it, perceived by his olfaction receptors- she was sipping, slamming the cup down and coughing. He made to help her, but she waved a hand at him. “Woah, look pal, I ain’t anyone’s-”

“Are you medically trained?” He interrupted. “My patient’s superficial wounds have been treated- the techniques used indicate it was done by a professional with classical training- and his hypothermia correctly diagnosed.”

“No, do I look like I-?” Baymax silently wondered why this woman was looking so harried. "Connor looked him over when he first arrived."

Communication between medical practitioners led to less conflicting diagnoses and more efficient care; Baymax made a note to inquire said man about his techniques, education, and treatment.

“And what series of events led to his current status?” He asked, the information impertinent.

“Couldn’t tell ‘ya even if I wanted to.” She smoothed over her hair before shrugging, the action indicating a noncommittal answer. "Haven’t found the time to ask- he's been asleep since my girls dragged his sorry butt here two nights ago. I figured he’d wake in a day or two, though that doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon."

"I see." Both his patients were asleep, it seemed.

The nursebot set to work, tottering back to his case and pulling out a syringe, two bottles, fresh gauze and a carefully folded electric blanket.

He offered the blanket to the woman, silent, but knowing she would understand. And in turn, she did, accepting the soft thing and placing it over Hiro, tucking the sides under the boy’s body with efficiency. Shen then watched as he carefully transported the liquid medication from the one bottle into the syringe, offering not so much as a twitch when the needle penetrated skin.

Baymax repeated the procedure again with the second bottle before redressing the wounds. Spotting was occurring around his right bicep and temple.

It was over and finished within minutes.

He stared at the young Hamada, optic lenses focusing and refocusing.

“I am done.” He said out loud, straightening to his full height. He wobbled over to his case, which beeped in confirmation to the signal he sent, the top retracting and the sides opening. Returning his supplies back to their designated places, Baymax prepared himself for deflation.

"What? You're not staying" The woman's voice was alarmed and, when Baymax looked back, was standing awkwardly beside his patient's bedside. "You're leaving him with me?"

"I must return," he told her, stepping into his case. "My absence will be noticed once the sun rises-"

"Well, take him with you!" She stepped closer to him, waving a frantic hand toward the sleeping teenager.

Baymax did not understand. "It is unwise to move a patient once he or she has settled. It would slow recovery and be detrimental to their health. He will be cared better here."

“I don’t know how- I mean, I can’t-” She seemed to be struggling with something. The robot was about to ask, always ready to offer a nonjudgmental ear, but suddenly her shoulders slumped and her head bowed in defeat. “Ugh, I can’t believe this- nothing’s going as smooth as I thought it would.”

"There, there..." He did not entirely know the context behind that particular statement, but he pat her shoulder nonetheless, adding the necessary drawl for more comfort. She stiffened at the contact, leading him to withdraw.

Once he stepped onto the pad and aligned himself, he deflated and found himself packed within the confines of his case. He blinked up at the woman innocently.

"I shall return tomorrow, but I require some assistance presently." he intoned before turning away, exiting the room.

She pulled down the lever once he was stationed inside, watching him until the concrete walls obscured his view of her.

Despite the late hour, the number of people in the lower floor had increased. In fact, by the sound of it, a game was in the process; loud cheers erupted at random intervals, urging on the players that raced around the rink.

An outline of the route which held the less obstacles was highlighted on his screen, a simple map that would get him out of the building and back to the Hamada household in record time. He would surely be there before-

"Ow! That hurt!" He stopped, turning toward the sound of distress. Approximately ten feet away, within the roller rink, an adolescent had fallen on the ground. "No fair! You have an advantage!"

Protocol had him rolling away from the door and cutting through the rink to the potential patient; the adolescent, as well as those around, caught sight of him and watched as he paraded across the rink and came at a stop in front of them. Any chance of the junior game going back to schedule was discarded as all attention focused on the robot.

He inflated for a second time that night and followed through with the programs encoded in him. He was, after all, a healthcare companion.

"Hello, I am Baymax..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the longer chapters… but, also, one that was really fun to write (when not being slaved over). And, ah yes, the Fujitas- they’ll have a bigger role coming up in the next few chapters, which should be exciting, right?


	12. Frustratingly Fragile

Hiro knew the exact moment when Tadashi stepped through the Lucky Cat Cafe doorway by the loud cheer that erupted throughout the building, echoing outside and through the open garage door where Hiro hid himself.

The welcoming party could finally begin now that the cause of celebration had finally arrived.

The rest of his friends had left, guilt driving them to join the festivities (Tadashi was still their friend, after all), leaving him and Baymax to loiter in the garage. Looking over the schematics for the suits, he mulled over them time and time again, focusing on anything that would keep him from going inside and having to deal with his brother.

He had refrained from speaking to Tadashi about the night of the car chase, opting to ramble incoherently and ambiguously before scampering out of his hospital room; when Aunt Cass had asked about leaving much sooner than their earlier visits, he'd explained he was busy with a side project. Obviously, she'd assumed it was for Tadashi _specifically_ , cooing at him that he was such a sweet brother- her little man, all grown up.

Obviously, Hiro's behavior didn't discourage his brother- on the contrary, if anything, it spurred him to new heights. Just as actively as Hiro was keeping out of his brother's way, Tadashi seeked him out. It was like a game of tag, an awkward and tense game of tag that had them running around in circles and left both parties frustrated and a bit angry.

It was a bit cowardly, Hiro had to admit, turning tail and running whenever he spotted the familiar baseball cap, but he considered it necessary nonetheless. He just wasn't ready to confront the giant elephant in the room.

“How shall you keep all this from Tadashi now that he is home?” Baymax asked from behind him, having no problem bringing up topics he didn't want to be a part of.

Groaning, he slammed his face onto the desk. “I have no idea anymore- just... don’t remind me…”

There was a pause, one where Hiro could feel his forehead begin to throb against the cool surface of his desk. Behind him he could hear Baymax teeter and press comfortingly against his back, white vinyl covering every aspect of sight when he finally (a full three minutes later) allowed himself to peel skin off of wood.

"A break from all thought process on the matter would help in your decision making," the robot suggested. "It has been proved effective in stimulating greater comprehension and better judgment when recovery time is provided."

The nursebot stepped back when Hiro swiveled his chair around to face him, eyebrows rising at what the robot was implying.

"I suggest you interact with your fellow peers in a more jovial environment."

"Are..." Hiro started, lips twitching, unsure of what he was actually hearing. "Are you telling me to go have fun at the party upstairs?"

"I am simply informing you of the benefits of joining the festivities." Baymax confirmed. "Stress can be overwhelming unless time is given to relax and enjoy one's happier moments." The whole thing sounded something coming out of a commercial and Hiro vaguely wondered if it indeed had- Baymax was never one to be subtle about things and he wouldn't put it past the robot to steal his lines off an older than death infomercial.

"I don't know..." Hiro scratched the side of his head. "There's a lot of people out there..."

"If I am correct, it is nothing you have not faced before." The robot offered the assurance with an honesty that soothed the boy.

Hiro pushed himself out of the chair, slowly and without much motivation. He stretched his hands and back, twisting and having it elicit a small pop.

"Fine," the boy agreed eventually, making his way toward the door with Baymax tottering behind, "but only because I know Aunt Cass bought some gummy bears yesterday."

"Though it is slightly discouraging that the only pull toward social interaction is a popular gelatin-based candy," Baymax said, watching as Hiro pulled at the bottom rail of the garage door after them, the object falling shut with rigidity that shook its frame, "it can be documented as progress in comparison to your previous self-isolation."

"Progress?"

"Of the healing process, yes." They had made it to the side door of the building, which barely muffled the cacophony of sound coming from inside. "This progression will eventually lead to a heartfelt talk of one's own feelings- do not fear showing you deeper emotions, it is all part of the process. If you ever feel the need to cry and talk about your problems, I may-"

"Okay, let's put you back in your case before you turn this party into an intervention." Hiro guided the robot inside and up the stairs, quickly as to not be noticed and/or stopped by party goers or his family should they spot him.

"I must stay active. To ensure that your stress decreases." The nursebot declared, abruptly stalling, when Hiro pushed him toward the red case sitting under their large clock. Hiro stumbled back, bouncing off Baymax’s body; a fall would’ve alerted anyone downstairs and he didn’t feel up for interrogation.

"Oh no, you are not coming." Hiro put more force in his next push, gaining a small victory when one of the robot's stubby feet took a step forward. "That'll do the exact opposite."

"But I-"

"Trust me, buddy, I'll be fine." Hiro leaned around Baymax's round stomach. "Seriously, I'm already satisfied with the care you've given me."

The robot blinked, then, to Hiro's great relief, voluntarily stepped into his case.

"I'll tell you how it went later, okay?" The boy promised just before a motor turned on and air was sucked out of the robot's vinyl suit, the material folding and fitting into its container perfectly.

When his friend was completely deactivated Hiro stood there quietly for a moment, looking around the room with a tired look. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glancing at the red case and then at his bed, still crumpled and messy from that morning, before settling them on the doorway when a particularly loud hurrah stomped its way up the stairs and into his room.

Maybe it would be better with Baymax…

Then he remembered Baymax’s continuous medical advice and lack of subtlety and decided against. He was trying to keep a secret, not tell everyone what he knew.

He sighed and followed his feet as they took him to join the party.

* * *

For the third time since coming home Tadashi waved away a helping hand, smiling as he explained that he was more than capable of handling everything one-handed. He learned to make sure his bandaged arm was out of view, recognizing the discomfort and pity in their eyes when they spotted it a second after greeting him.

Aunt Cass had explained to him that a little get-together to cheer everyone up was exactly what the doctor ordered (he could even ask the man himself, Aunt Cass having invited him and a few nurses to come celebrate at the Hamada household), especially with all that had happened the past few weeks.

"It's a party, for you! Unless you don't want one- that's fine, too. I can tell everyone to go away, Mr. Cho from next door will be tough to kick out though- he's always too ready to sneak off with some of my raspberry tarts... but I can totally manage if that's what you want. Say the word and I'll return everything. Well, not everything, the cake we can keep- it's chocolate with sweet cream frosting, you know, like the one we had for Hiro's graduation and-" She paused. "Where was I going with this?"

Tadashi had placed a hand over hers, stilling its exaggerated movements, a smile in place. “Thanks for the party, Aunt Cass.” Her relieved expression had him more accepting of all the noise and people.

She had hugged him tight, careful of his arm, happily announcing that she had even bought a piñata before rushing off to retrieve it. Tadashi had smiled fondly at her retreating back, laughing quietly to himself as he strolled out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

Almost immediately he set off to corner his friends, all of them ending with similar results- failure.

Wasabi acted more like a waiter than a guest, coming and going with platters of food and drinks. Whenever Tadashi came near, all he would get was whatever food his friend was carrying shoved into his hands, no time to utter a sound before Wasabi disappeared the way he had come. Tadashi gave up after the fifth try, realizing quickly that he’d give his friend an anxiety attack before any information was voluntarily given.

He spotted Fred blindfolded and wildly swinging a bat in the general direction of a fox piñata, Aunt Cass among the audience of people apprehensively watching him; he saw her blatantly snatch a vase off a table when a particular swing went wide and cradled it protectively against her chest. Going anywhere near the area would have him with even more injuries and yet another trip to the hospital, so he wandered to the small circle of classmates in the opposite corner where he could see a familiar figure within their ranks.

Honey Lemon was the least enthusiastic of the group, shyly waving at him from her chair. She didn't provide her usual bubbly conversation, seemingly preferring to remain generally silent as the others talked about their lives. No one besides him seemed to notice her odd behavior, or the fact that she wouldn't keep his gaze for much longer than a few seconds, it flickering to her phone (a safety blanket if he ever saw one) in short intervals.

His light mood dampened immediately when he caught sight of the new phone (had her other one been destroyed?), remembering exactly the last time it was used- what had happened the last time they'd spoken. But, still, he forced his smile not to falter as he responded to a question posed by one of his other friends.

Uncomfortable with being the center of attention for very long, he artfully directed the questions away from him and onto others. It didn't take long for them to respond accordingly, happily (obliviously) taking reins of the conversation, and for him to become a listener to the countless stories he had to be filled up on.

Though, soon the recap of what he had missed wasn't enough to hold his attention and he found himself getting tired of socializing. He excused himself (Honey looked absolutely relieved and he tried not to feel too hurt) and made his way into the living room.

Tadashi's eyes roamed the warm room, skimming over the over-the-top decorations and the jovial party goers before pausing on a lone figure sitting by the coffee table.

Gogo.

Within seconds of spotting her Tadashi was making a beeline toward her secluded corner, offering gracious words and a polite smile to any individual who happen to stop him in the process, but making nothing more than small talk.

Some time during it, she had looked up and noticed him, but, thankfully, didn’t bolt the moment she saw him heading in her direction like his other friends were prone to do of late; instead, leaning back in her chair and watching him with a cool complexion. She offered him a piece of cake when he sat down next to her, taking a bite into her own. “How you feeling?”

Her question was layered differently than the ones he’d been getting throughout the night, less superficial and more concerned with his actual health, both mental and physical. Tadashi found himself relaxing, his stiff back getting a break, and accepted the food (by the grumbles in his stomach, it was well-needed).

"I'm doing okay," he answered, only twitching a little when a couple to their right burst into rambunctious laughter. "Could be better..." The unfinished _if my friends and brother weren't hiding something from me_ was obvious and he was sure GoGo got the message.

"Don't ruin your own party for yourself, Hamada," she told him, fork scraping against her plate as she rounded up a blob of leftover frosting and popped it into her mouth. Tadashi was about to retort that he wasn’t the one ruining it when he caught sight of her arm.

“What’s that?” A faint line, a shade too pale, ran across her inner forearm- he knew hadn’t been there before the fire, seeing as someone would have asked about it before long. Though faded, as if it was hastily covered with some of Honey Lemon's foundation, that didn’t make it look any less ghastly.

She rolled her eyes, slapping his reaching hand away. “Some guy hit my bike and I fell. Big deal.”

Even with her reassurance, Tadashi couldn’t help but think that it must’ve been one heck of a fall to get that scar. And before all the craziness that had happened lately he wouldn’t have even considered her to blatantly lie to him, but, now, he found himself suspicious at her nonchalant attitude. “This isn’t from the other night, is it?”

“Nope.” Finally, someone openly stated that the other night hadn’t been a figment of his imagination- that he wasn’t going crazy and everything he’d heard was real. GoGo didn’t seem concerned, tapping his plate as another reminder to eat. “Relax. I’m in one piece. We all are.”

He took a bite, complying on the off chance that she would be more cooperative because of it, before getting straight to the point. “I’m glad, I really am, but none of you are telling me anything and all _this_ ," he waved a hand absently in the air. "isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

She brushed a purple strand out of her face, huffing. "I know, that’s exactly what I told them."

“Then why-”

“It wasn't my decision.”

"What does that even mean?" Gogo was never one to be muzzled.

She inclined her head to the living room, where, just barely spotted through the doorway, was Hiro, making himself very much acquainted with the bowl of candy their aunt had set out, no doubt searching for gummy bears. And as he watched his brother join the growing audience of the show Fred was giving, sending the pair of them a nervous glance when he passed them by, he finally understood.

"Of course," Tadashi muttered, taking another bite of the cake and finding he was no longer in the mood to savor it. "Any reason why?"

GoGo shrugged. "Beats me, but he was pretty serious about it."

“I’ll talk with him.”

She snorted and Tadashi was all too aware of how ridiculously determined Hiro could be. “Good luck with that.”

Pushing that problem for another time, he focused on the task at hand. “Hiro, I can understand, but what about you guys? Why would you agree with him? What happened out there?"

Shrugging, GoGo offered a flippant, “Nothing we couldn't handle.”

He caught her eye, holding it steady and willing her to understand his perspective. “I know you can handle a lot, GoGo, but we’re not talking about just you. We’re talking about Wasabi, Honey, Fred, and Hiro." He leaned forward. "Gogo, he's my little brother-”

“I _know_ ," she grounded out, grip too strong on her fork. "But it's already- I can't just...”

Tadashi's eyebrows furrowed, not expecting her sudden anger. "Someone tried to hurt him- all of you- and you expect me just sit back-"

"Yes," she told him, using the voice of finality that he recognized from when she was talking to underclassmen. "We're _dealing_ with it."

He wasn't to be deterred. "How?"

Here GoGo hesitated, reaching for a piece of his cake and focusing on taking a bite out of it rather than answering his question. Slightly astounded, he couldn't believe that this whole situation was something that even _she_ wasn't fully willing to tell him. Gogo, of all people, was keeping him in the dark.

With the twinge of betrayal that came with that thought Tadashi felt the rush of anger flush his skin. Their group of friends had never been one to ostracize, so him being the one left behind was a bit irritating (was this how his brother felt when everyone treated him like a child?). "No matter what you do, I'm going to find out. I’m going to be a part of it one way or another."

Tadashi was more than glad that he'd grown immune to the worst of GoGo’s intimidation, not crumbling under the scowl directed at him; he was pushing her buttons and her limit, he could see. That he didn't wither under her dark eyes was only a small victory; she may have been against the notion of not telling him, but GoGo was going to stick by her decision and the promise to his brother. Gogo was faithful to the end.

Their stare off went on only for a moment, before GoGo got to her feet; Tadashi rose to his, the manners Aunt Cass had taught him refusing to be ignored.

The party went on around them, oblivious sans for a few pairs of eyes. The Korean girl stepped closer to him, unafraid to get right in his face for the few seconds it took her to say, "Do whatever you want, but, just know, you won't be getting anything out of me."

Then she was walking away from him, slipping between a couple with no care that she was distributing a conversation or the looks sent her way from the two. He watch her, eyes narrowed uncharacteristically when he spotted his brother watching as well.

The boy shuffled awkwardly next to their aunt at his 'big brother' stare, one which he had years to perfect.

He spent the rest of the party following after his friends, shameless in his need for knowledge. They, in turn, skittered around him- somehow, even more passionately than before. Now, when he even came within a ten foot distance to them, they would quickly excuse themselves from whatever they were doing and make a hasty retreat to some other part of the house. It was all so frustrating and Tadashi wanted to stomp his foot with how ridiculous it was getting.

Thankfully, before he blew a vein in his head, his nurse managed to corner him in the kitchen and ask him how he was doing. The older Hamada allowed himself to get distracted for however long by the man, who was honestly such pleasant company that Tadashi felt bad for not being his usual cheery self, and tried to limit the sidelong glances he sent at his friends to a minimum while they talked.

By the time evening rolled around (and the calming conversation with his nurse came to an end) their guests had started to trickle out one-by-one, leaving them alone with the mess that was the after-party. Fred was the last to leave, proudly carrying his hoard of candy (miraculously, nothing had been broken, only a few close encounters).

Tadashi was feeling tired (days on end lying in a bed hadn’t helped him there), but he was adamant to help clean up. He'd have time to sleep later, he defended himself when Aunt Cass protested, and some light exercise would do him some good.

It was to his relief she relented. If he was doing something, then his frustration from the evening wouldn't overwhelm him.

"Where do you think you're going, mister?" Aunt Cass demanded, making Tadashi turn to spot his brother already halfway up the stairs. "You're helping clean up."

Hiro scowled, it looking more like a pout with his baby fat. One stern glare had him back downstairs, taking the plates Aunt Cass was holding and trudging to the kitchen with only minimal whining with instructions to wash.

"Did you have fun today?" His aunt asked him, pushing chairs to their rightful places. Tadashi recognized the question as one that was frequently voiced during his childhood and understood what she was truly asking: Are you happy?

Their aunt had always been doubtful of her skill as a parent and, no matter what the two Hamada brothers said, would bite her nails to nubs worrying over the fact. Tadashi never understood it- his aunt had been there when they needed her most, during the lowest of times where she herself should have been reduced to mind numbing despair, and had stayed with them regardless of it all. She had patched up the family with devotion that left no one lacking.

And it was because of all that that Tadashi, despite the entire situation with his friends and the thick tension ever rising between him and his brother, smiled and lied straight out of his teeth. "Yeah, it was the best. Thanks again, Aunt Cass."

She didn't spot the deceit and devoured the untruth as if she was starving, smiling wide as she helped him clear the table.

Hiro's call from the kitchen interrupted them. "Do I have t-"

Aunt Cass didn't even look his little brother's way, reaching over the table and grabbing a bowl of salsa. "All of them."

Seeing his brother forced into doing work had always been amusing before, only now Tadashi felt a sort of smug satisfaction. Hiro may have been dodging him the whole night, but Aunt Cass wouldn't let him get away that easy. Hiro sensed this and sent him a dirty look before dunking his hands back into the sink.

Aunt Cass talked as they worked, chatting about anything and everything. It was so completely and utterly her that Tadashi found himself smiling (honestly and truly) and soon enough their house was clean. Granted, it had its usual messy layout, but it was all relaxing in its own way.

"Wait, wait." Hiro was again stopped from bolting back upstairs. Aunt Cass herded the both of them to the table, practically pushing them into their seats. She darted into the kitchen, oblivious to how both their shoulders hunched at the close proximity, and returned with a plate full of her special hot wings.

"Don't think I didn't notice how neither of you ate any real food today," she spoke over their feeble arguments of how they weren't hungry, voice scolding, "and cake and candy does not count."

She piled each of their plates with a generous amount of wings, daring them to argue with a stern look. The boys shared a look of their own, problems momentarily forgotten in favor of a shared exasperation. If they were even going to call it a night and retreat to the safety of their room, they had to eat.

Hiro set upon his plate more eagerly than Tadashi, attacking the wings with a force that only a growing boy could. He idly wondered if the Hiro was truly hungry or just wanted to finish as quickly as possible so he could finally make his retreat away from them. The older Hamada watched for a moment, thinking, before setting upon his own plate, pace slower than even Aunt Cass with the obstruction of his arm. Though, finally, with only minimal difficulty, he dug his teeth into the spicy meat, nostrils flaring when they inhaled its overpowering scent.

"Be careful, it'll melt your face right off and set your tongue on fire..."

Across from her, Hiro paused, the wing stopping just short of his mouth; it could've been a picture worthy of their scrapbooks, complete with a spot of sauce on his chin. Tadashi was almost tempted to snap the picture himself, but Aunt Cass's stricken expression could easily lead them into another tangent.

It took a moment for Tadashi to understand.

Oh.

He spared his arm a glance, catching his family doing the same. Though the bandages covered most of the damage if one looked close enough they could see the slight inflamed skin of his fingers poking out where the gauze was thinnest.

"Hey, if these wings really do their job, then I'll finally match." He awkwardly waved his arm, inwardly wincing at the bad quality of the joke.

Poorly placed, but it did the trick.

Hiro let out a snort, it sending him into a coughing fit when some of the chili sauce went up his nose. And the sight was so comical, so normal, that it brought a laugh out of Tadashi and saw the tension dissipating. Their aunt leaned over the table and offered his little brother some water, trying to hide her own giggles under a worried frown.

It took a good minute for his brother to stop breathing fire from his nostrils, giving their aunt enough time to bring out the leftover cake.

"We can't let this go waste," She said, brandishing three forks and dropping them in their open palms. Her smile seemed to lighten up the mood, taking a heavy duty hammer and pounding the wall that had built up between Tadashi and Hiro throughout the day.

Tadashi caught his brother's eye, a look of understanding passing between them- there weren't going to be any interrogations tonight. For her, they would put the drama away.

They ended the night sitting in the kitchen, lamenting about past memories, while Aunt Cass went off on a tangent about Mr. Cho’s most recent attempt at stealing her tarts ( _I tell you, he’s in it for the recipe_ ) and Miss Matsumoto’s outfit of the evening ( _I love the woman, but miniskirts aren’t for her_ ).

Tadashi even found it in himself to give Hiro a face full of cake, spreading it across the boy's face and down his neck; he was barely scolded, Aunt Cass too busy looking for her camera and snapping a picture when she found it. When Hiro wiped the frosting from his eyes and glared at Tadashi, he gave the boy a smirk, a challenge in every line. They weren't fighting, yes, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to give his brother a hard time. Besides, Aunt Cass was laughing again and that was something even Hiro wouldn't dare ruin.

It was one of his more sweeter victories.

* * *

“Well, will you look at what the cat dragged in,” were the words that greeted Hiro when he awoke.

It wasn't the gradual dip into consciousness as he was accustomed to, but a plunge that left him jolting up. Something stabbed him in the side and his head, a pain washing over him that left him reeling; he sucked in a breath between his teeth, hissing and coughing.

His back hunched over as he tried to get a bearing of his surroundings, clarity blinking into focus with every second.

He was lying in a bed. A bed that was slightly too small for his lanky limbs, covered with rough sheets the color of the sea in the early morning. Beyond that, his fuzzy mind recognized nothing. Not the walls with their tacky wallpaper, nor the layout of the room or its furniture- when had he gotten a vanity dresser?

A thud brought his attention to someone else in the room, snapping to the door, where Ren was setting down an opaque container next to two others.

There was a moment filled with unreserved dread where Hiro's hands flew to his face. Shaking fingers prodded bruised flesh and smoothed over the familiar slopes of his features, which were stripped and bare to the outside word. Wide eyes flickered every which way, doing nothing to hide the panic sparking in them.

"Relax, will you," the woman said, lifting the lid of a random container and peering inside. "Your armor's right here... or, at least, what's left of it anyways."

Her words brought all that had happened rushing back. The fight with Callaghan and Hiro's crushing defeat. His heart raced, going in time with his quick thoughts. How long had he been unconscious? Where was Callaghan now? At what stage were his plans at? Had he gone to Akuma Island yet? Where was his younger self now? He hadn't done anything reckless yet, had he? What about Tadashi; was he still at the hospital and safe? Had there been another attack?

Hiro went to lift up the sheets and get out of the bed, but a something pushed him back into the lumpy pillow. He looked up into the dark eyes of Ren.

"You took a bad beating- best not to overwork yourself," she advised.

He blinked.

"What?"

"You- well, you're being... nice." _And not trying to kill me or my brother_ , were the other words he wanted to say, but tactfully omitted.

"Please- nice? Do I look like I do nice?" Ren scoffed, her hard exterior reestablishing itself, as she moved away from him. "No, I just don't want you bleeding on everything. Blood stains are the hardest to get out."

Ah, there was the criminal he’d gotten to know.

“This is only temporary, so don’t get used to it." She told him, flippant and taking the edge off what it meant. "The only reason you’re even here is because my girls found your sorry butt left rotting in the streets and the only reason you're still alive is because... well, because this whole mess might not turn out to be such a lost cause after all."

His eyes narrowed. Any gratitude he had been feeling dwindled, closing off as he himself did.

"Now, I've been thinking about it a lot and, you know, you’re more part of this then you let on," she continued, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I'm not sure exactly what all if 'this' is- it's not just a war against Yama, that's for sure- but, still, it's enough to make a girl wonder."

Hiro pressed his lips together. He may have had just woken up in a strange place, probably escaping a death sentence on the streets, and had this women to thank, but he wasn't stupid. He was not going to spill out his entire story just because she wanted some entertainment or was vaguely interested in him. Yes, he had gotten information somewhat worth his money, but he still hadn’t forgotten than they were the ones who’d targeted Tadashi and, judging by Ren’s face, she hadn’t either. They’d fought only a few days earlier, there was no way he’d fold.

She saw this and smiled. "Don't worry, it'll be all the more satisfying when I figure it out myself."

Time travel wasn't the first thing people generally thought of- well, except for Fred, but he was an expert when it came to out of this world theories so that didn't count- so there wasn't much to worry about. The likelihood of her figuring it out was statistically slim, but Hiro knew better than to underestimate Ren and took a mental note to keep an eye on the ex-Fujita.

“So this is you, huh?” She said abruptly, distracting him. Despite his growing migraine, Hiro managed to scowl at the woman as she casually settled on the night stand, staring him down with an experienced eye. “Mr. Hero is nothing but a snot-nosed brat- pretty disappointing, if you ask me."

He could feel one side of his jaw clenching as he grounded his teeth; he hadn’t traveled back in time to deal with this kind of treatment. “I’m not a kid.”

She angled her head back and to the side, considering his words, before blundering on, “So what’s your name, _kid_?”

 _Breathe_ , he told himself when his temper threatened to get the better of him, _she's just trying to rile you up for her own fun_. He followed his own instructions, finding it easier done when speaking truthfully, "It's Hiro."

" _Hiro?_ "

"Yeah, so what if it is?" He asked defensively, not liking the incredulity or sudden amusement her tone was suddenly laced in. "Is there something wrong with my name?"

"Nothing," Ren placated, hiding a smile, "it's just..."

"It's just what?" He challenged.

"Oh, come on. You really don't see it?" She was having a field day, Hiro could just tell; the longer he was left clueless, the more satisfaction she got out of the whole thing. Though she finally let up when it looked like he might explode in a splutter of teenage frustration and angry sass. "You're telling me that you're Hiro... Hiro, the hero."

He paused, unsure and unexpecting of what he had just heard, and then groaned loudly (though not of any _physical_ pain), falling back onto the sheets, "That's all you have to say? A stupid pun?"

God, what a Tadashi thing to do- spouting bad puns in the most ambiguous of times.

Ren's sharp shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug, "What can I say, I've got an incredible sense of humor."

Hiro shook his head and slowly closed his eyes, shifting to get more comfortable in the bed, not knowing what else to do.

"Though, I gotta say that you do look a little familiar." Hiro froze, eyes snapping open and impossibly wide.

"Cause I'm sure I've seen that face of yours somewhere before," Ren continued, eyeing his expression as she rattled off, "You a local drunk? Got friends in low places you like to visit? Broken up a knife fight? A gang fight? No? Hmm, maybe it was at a bot fight- I mean, you did say you knew the game."

Her foot kicked at something underneath the bed, a metal _clang_ ringing out as something rolled and banged against the bed's leg. Hiro almost wondered aloud how she had even found Babymax, which of whom was supposed to be safely back at SFIT- it took him a moment to remember that he had relocated the bot to some obscure underpass, paranoid of someone finding the small thing once school started back up.

It looked like none of his secret hiding spots were secret anymore.

"You know, I judge a few of them some nights when I'm not dealing with hero munchkins." She grinned, though it more resembled a bearing of teeth. "How about it? Ever been a competitor in one of my games?"

He didn't answer, already knowing the answer (it was stupid of him to forget in the first place, his last bot fight before going straight). Instead he looked away as if he hadn't heard her; his fingers itched to hold Babymax, desiring something familiar and comforting in such a strange place.

"Not gonna spill that either, huh?"

"Don't you have someone you need to hustle or try to kill or something?" He demanded, falling back to anger- an easy emotion, one that worked especially well with confusion and fear.

Her lip curled at that, good friends with the angry expression on her face- a mirror to Hiro's own. "No, I'm too busy keeping you alive, but, by all means, continue to insult me. Let's see where that goes."

Once again he had to look away, unable to respond to that. He was indebted to these people- these _criminals_ ; he could push buttons all he wanted, but he was on borrowed time. If he wanted to get through this with only minimal problems, he'd have to use everything he had and that included his contacts. Whether he liked it or not, whether he trusted them or not, he needed them.

Besides, Honey Lemon would surely be disappointed in him and his attitude. He’d leveled out in the years, but that didn’t mean his anger didn’t flare up from time to time.

He hated having to do this. He swallowed and sucking up as much courage as he could met Ren's eye, forcing himself to keep it. "Sorry... I know you didn't have to do this, but you did so... thanks."

She looked a little surprised, her earlier anger fading.

Struggling for a means to continue the conversation and uncomfortable with her stare, Hiro racked his brains for something before finally remembering the first day he had visited the roller derby and the interesting (peculiar) talk he had with the man in the ticket booth. "How about another deal?"

Ren raised both eyebrows, even more surprised. That was expected, because what did he have to offering his current predicament. ****"A deal?"

Hiro hesitated for a moment, cautiously taking in the gleam in her eye at the word, biting the inside of his cheek until a sharp pain flared. He continued,knowing that it was only way, "You said you were interested in me, right? Well, here's your chance to get what you want."

Hiro was almost proud at how much he was surprising the ex-Fujita- it left him feeling more in power than in actuality."... and you're okay with giving me all this information?"

Hiro refrained from rolling his eyes. "No, not all of it. Just enough. You kept me in the dark before, so I don't see why I can't keep a few things to myself. Look, it'll be on a need to know basis, but I’ll tell you what I can."

Pursing her lips, Ren mulled it over. "And what do you get?"

"I need a headquarters. And some intel would be nice too, but," he pointed an accusing finger at the woman, "no double crossing."

She shifted until most of her weight rested on one foot, hand curling around her hip- it reminded him of Gogo. "We're hired by Yama, kid, so there's going to be some of that."

Brown eyes stared at her, waiting.

Instead of taking his challenge and leveling her dark eyes in a stare off he was so sure was coming, Ren looked away, huffing, "Yeah, fine, I guess I can try to leave the double crossing at a minimum- or at least warn you or something. Happy?"

He smiled, the first of the day. "Immensely."

There was a moment of silence where Hiro looked curiously into the turned face of the woman. When he realized she was looking at his gap tooth he stopped smiling immediately, lips pressing together self-consciously.

No more smiling. "So, it's a deal?"

Ren didn't answer, searching his face. Whatever it was must have escaped her, because she reverted back to her usual sharp self. "Deal. But, don't think that this gives you any special treatment; this is still my place."

"Like you said, it's only 'temporary.'"

* * *

His patient was awake during his next visit.

Baymax entered the establishment, greeting the regulars and inquiring about their health; unlike his first encounters, they were more inclined to speak of their injuries and problems. A sign of progress.

After a few cases with minimal abrasions, he followed the path he'd memorize, greeting a group of derby participants that skated by and reminded them to keep it safe. No one stopped him afterward.

He was spotted as he entered the room. Hiro's expression grew more obvious as he inflated and Baymax understood it as surprise (bewilderment, his online thesaurus supplied, always in the search for more applicable words)

“Hello, Hiro. It is good to see you awake,” the robot greeted.

Hiro seemed to be just now recovering from the surprise of seeing Baymax's case roll its way casually into the spare room of _The Flower Garden_. “B-Baymax? What are you doing here?”

Peering down at his patient, Baymax opted to scan him rather than respond, noting the increased number of injuries since their last appointment. The need for immediate action was small, a professional hand already taken care to supply a good portion of medical aid; there was a lack of medication, those present on the nearby tableside proving to be only the generic products. “You are my patient. I am here to provide satisfactory care.”

“No," the boy sent a look at his surroundings and the open doorway. "I mean, what are you doing _here_? How did you even get here?”

“I do not understand. You are aware of my scanner and adequate motor functions, are you not?”

Hiro sighed, shaking his head. "Does anyone back home know you're here?"

"My current whereabouts have been withheld from a selected few," he told Hiro, "for confidentiality reasons."

"You mean you snuck out?" Pause. "And no one noticed?" He asked incredulously.

"I am very careful not to wake anyone," Baymax assured him, checking his bandages. There was faint reminiscence of the earlier burns, nothing more. Another day or two, he hypothesized, and then he would remove them. "A full night's rest is imperative for a healthy lifestyle."

"I don't get it," Hiro mumbled, letting the nursebot take his arms and inspect it. More bruising, but nothing too damaging. "I always got caught sneaking out- I mean, never at first, but, eventually someone would notice I was gone. It's seriously unbelievable that you can do it."

"Yeah, surprised us real good when he showed up out of the blue." Hiro immediately stilled, but Baymax merely rotated his head and offered a polite greeting.

"Hello, Ren. It is good to see you again."

"Ditto."

He turned back to his patient. "Hiro, this is Ren."

Instead of answering, the boy gaped at the two. Baymax watched as Hiro sputtered, looking at Ren for the possible reasoning behind it, but she didn't give him an answer. She shrugged.

Intrigued by the motion, Baymax copied her.

"Your robot's been keeping tabs on you, so we've gotten to know him pretty well," Ren explained, holding up a hand for silence. "No one's complaining since he's been taking care of everyone here- won’t leave anyone alone, even if it’s a papercut." She shrugged again, Baymax following suit. "Better him than a doctor that needs papers."

At this, Baymax decided to speak up, knowing that his patient would be impressed at his rising aptitude with dealing with his other patients. "I have been steadily solidifying the bond between patient and practitioner."

He must not have been heard because Hiro suddenly turned to Ren. "He counts as part of the deal."

Tilting his head, Baymax could not find any recording or file concerning a deal. Ren seemed to know what they were talking about because she gave a sly smile. "Jumped on that real quick, did we? Fine. He's been at it for days, so I can't really say no. Don't ever say I'm not generous."

Perhaps it was nothing to be concerned about, this deal.

Baymax rotated his head again to peer at Ren behind him. “I require some non-generic medication. Is it possible you have some in supply? If not I shall retrieve the proper prescription.”

Ren pursed her lips, appearing to think his question over. "Connor should have some hidden around."

"Would you inform him that I request a chat. I would like to discuss his medical teachings and express my gratitude for providing care for my patient while I was otherwise occupied." Baymax said. "This would also give me a chance to privately converse with my patient."

His request was accepted, Ren motioning to Hiro and Baymax. "I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on."

Then she was gone.

As the door slid to a close, Baymax found that, even with all the processing power of his AI mind, he still could not obtain complete clarity on the subject at hand. He walked closer to the bedside so that his protruding tummy gently bumped against his patient's shoulder. "Hiro, you are still participating in the recreational activities that placed you in need of emergency care."

The teenager craned his head back, face taking on an expression of guilt before smoothing over. "Wha- I'm not..."

Baymax ignored the obvious lie, determined so by the palpitation of his patient's heartbeat. "I must again request that you quit these activities. It is counterproductive to your recovery and, as there are no positive outcomes that could possibly arrive from them, illogical.”

Hiro did not take to his words.

"I know it's not good for me, but someone has to deal with it- the Fujitas, this mess, Callaghan, everything. If I don't figure it out, then everything might just turn even worse than my time." Hiro explained, eyes intense when they raise themselves to meet up with Baymax's own optics; Baymax compared the sight to a dated image of the boy on file, finding that this Hiro resembled his ten year-old self in more than superficial looks. "So, I gotta do this, you have to understand- please, I need you to understand."

Silence ensued as Baymax took in the information. "I still must insist an immediate halt of all activity concerning-"

"Nothing's going to convince me to stop, Baymax. I'm the only one who can save this time. Why don't- can't you understand?" Eyebrows were drawn, suggesting anger- an apt observation and assumption that matched the voice patterns of the teenager. Anger had been a constant emotion in his patient as of late, an observation that rung alarm bells in Baymax's system. "Maybe you haven't learned enough to get why, but it's... if I don't... well, I'm scared that it'll be all for nothing. Callaghan's going to cause so much destruction because of something that wasn't entirely Krei's fault- and he doesn't care, and that makes me so angry-"

"I have substantial data about human emotions," he informed Hiro, the file brought up to main attention. "Anger, sadness, happiness, anxiety, love, all that drives the human body to-"

"This isn't something that you can just download," Hiro interrupted angrily before going quiet. Shoulders drooped as the boy started blinking rapidly. Baymax started to search the room for tissues, immediately stopping the talk that was causing his patient such distress. Hiro shook his head, looking away. "Look, it's not your fault, it's just... so overwhelming and I- I just remembered home and... and how much I miss it and everyone. How much I wish everyone was here. Like Gogo and Wasabi and Baymax, well, _my_ Baymax- he would have understood..."

The nursebot's battery level lowered a single bar.

“Your body is dealing with external and internal injuries simultaneously. This, coupled with the multiple variants of stress your mind has been experiencing, is not recommended, as it may lead to an untreatable condition.” There was an uncharacteristic break in the robot's speech pattern, his hard drive strangely stalling to prepare out his next words. His parameters weren't expanded enough to convey his message in a human-like manner, nor to understand the reasoning why he went beyond what was protocol to ensure this specific patient remained healthy. “It is not my wish for you to progress beyond the care I am capable of giving."

He decided that he'd expressed himself adequately enough.

His patient moved, bed groaning in response as legs swung over it and bare feet touched down onto the ground (it was far too soon for strenuous exercise). Hands wrapped themselves around vinyl and pushed Baymax's pudgy form into their grasp.

Giant, white hands automatically came up to reciprocate the hug, Baymax never one to deny his patients the necessary treatment. If he was not a robot, he may have stated that he enjoyed the embrace, but Hiro had just told him moments before that his downloaded information was different, unable to be compared to actual feelings; his system ran inconclusive when it ran for the possible origins of these things called 'feelings'.

An experiment was needed, he decided, so that he could expand understanding of emotions. He couldn’t risk using outdated information. Hopefully, he could gain satisfactory results comparing the theoretical to his experimental. If it proved reliable, then he could understand his patient’s perspective; perhaps Hiro would converse with him about his experiment and indicate where errors could arise.

As of now, he took note of his current internal status, deciding to label it as 'content.'

"You still have another day's rest." Baymax said when the physical contact reached a few minutes in length, his patient up far longer than he would generally allow.

Hiro let out a watery laugh at the subtle order.

"This may seem strange, but I am sorry my care isn't as effective as my other self's."

"Like I said, it's not your fault. You can't help it that you and my Baymax are different." Hiro appeared guilty, of what Baymax did not know. "I... shouldn't have said that. I should be the one apologizing."

"There is no need. I already have made the required admissions." He patted Hiro’s head.

For some reason his patient found that funny, hormone levels spiking and higher activity in the frontal lobe. "Never change, Baymax."

"That will be a difficult request to ensure with my construct of adaptable-"

"Never mind, buddy, you're the best no matter what." Hiro smiled and Baymax observed that he could file another moment where he was ‘content.’

* * *

 The days that followed his brother’s return, Hiro had made the most progress and the least. The basics for the suits were finished, Hiro having more than a general concept about how they’d look and work- his friends had given him their pages of notes (entire journals, really) to help him out (or comic books in Fred’s case), so he wasn't drowning in the stress of it all. So many ideas ran through his head, each one as good as the next, but where he focused on one, three more were already being considered and remodeled. He just hoped he'd come to a decision soon (there were too many sneaking glances from Tadashi as of late) before he slipped up.

Where it concerned his brother on the other hand, it was a downhill slope.

Just being in the same room was tiring, every moment alone with him left him high strung and wanting to sleep off the fatigue. Before this whole mess, the occasional argument had come up, Hiro no stranger to fights with his brother, but this was on a whole new level.

Tadashi had never been so angry at him.

The party had been the least of his troubles, their little treaty saving him that night, but no longer.

The glaring contests that they’d developed was borderline deadly, speaking volumes where they couldn’t risk Aunt Cass hearing them at it. Hiro would enter the room and Tadashi was there, staring at him as if he could will the truth out of him; it was highly possible that he would- Hiro hated this feeling, of lying and keeping secrets from his brother.

In the end, he made sure to keep away from his brother as much as he could- harder to do than to say, seeing at they shared the same room. Only when he was around Aunt Cass did he get some sort of break, taking advantage of that whenever he could.

Two days past before they were thrown under the bus again.

He was working on the suits, only he’d hit a small problem (okay, a big problem)- Wasabi’s concept was the toughest to condense, each design needing slightly different parameters in place for containing the plasma. He’d begun to slam his forehead against the table in frustration, ignoring Baymax’s repeated insistence that he stop or else receive head trauma. And, after Baymax’s eleventh reminder that he still hadn’t taken a break from the suits, Hiro grudgingly separated himself from his work, glaring at it on the way out as if that could provide him with the answers.

A quick peek through the door showed no sign of Tadashi. That was a relief, as he didn’t think he was up for another stare off. Quietly, he made his way towards the cafe, hoping to sneak off with one of Aunt Cass’s donuts.

That plan was ruined when he spied his aunt stationed at their front door, a clump of letters and ads in her hands. Strange, Aunt Cass usually saved that until after hours.

"Aunt Cass?" He didn't get any answer, even when he came closer. She jumped when he tapped her arm, scaring him with how fast she whirled around. But really, her expression was more frightening, eyes wild and mouth tight. It reminded him of the night of the fire.

Holding his hands up, he eyed his aunt warily; the utter relief upon seeing him set him off, alarm bells ringing in his head. Whatever had gotten his Aunt Cass riled up, it had something to do with the mail, more importantly, the letter in her hands.

He stepped closer, turning his head sideways to better read the small, cursive print.

_... in the loving memory of Robert Callaghan..._

He looked up at Aunt Cass wide-eyed, finding the same fear mirrored in own her expression.

"It's next week," she told him, voice barely a whisper.

Hiro swallowed hard, guilt running its course as he realized that he had all but forgotten about the professor. Sure, he had heard when the tragic news of his unknown fate was announced, but he had let it slip to the back of his mind in favor or more urgent matters- Tadashi.

Now thoughts in the front of his mind centered themselves around the man.

What about his daughter? His wife? Did he have brothers and sisters? Hiro honestly didn't know and he felt queasy knowing that he hadn't bothered to find out more about his soon-to-be teacher. Tadashi probably would have told him-

"Tadashi." Aunt Cass jumped at his voice, crushing the paper to her chest once realization hit.

They'd been putting it off, telling Tadashi nothing of the fate of his beloved professor. How could they when people had still been desperately searching for the man- or the body, in spite of the weeks that passed by. The exhibition hall had been large, the wreckage so chaotic that searching wasn’t even possible until days after the fire was put out (who knew how stable the building was). There was the sliver of hope that some miracle might arise, but seeing the words printed out in front of them, everyone seemed to have accepted the truth.

Callaghan was dead and nothing remained to be found.

How would Tadashi take it? Not well, Hiro knew, but what were they supposed to do? The fire had been pushed to make room for more important things, his current projects and worries far more prominent than lingering fears, but now...

It seemed it was going to haunt them for a while longer.

Hiro ran his hands through his hair, dread collecting in the base of his stomach. The man was a well-respected scientist, colleague, and professor. More than that, Callaghan had been Tadashi’s favorite teacher, his mentor.

Nothing was going right. Tadashi had just been released and Hiro hadn't made his homecoming all the easier, so of course this was going to ruin everything even further. First the fire, then the masked man, and now Callaghan.

“What are you guys doing?”

Both Hiro and Aunt Cass jumped, whirling around to see Tadashi standing at the top of the stairs, eyeing them with a confused expression.

"Oh, Tadashi, I didn't hear you," Aunt Cass spoke far too loud, pulling a wince from both of them. “Did you want something, sweetie? Breakfast- uh, desert? Actually, you know, I remember your nurse telling me you shouldn’t be up too much. How about you head to bed?"

“You want me to… go to bed?” Aunt Cass, in her frantic state, had ignored the fact that it was only four in the afternoon.

“That’s right! I mean, it’s been a long day and you’re probably tired. A nap’s just the thing you need.” Hiro rocked on his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets only to decide against it, letting them awkwardly hang at his sides before he crossed them over his chest. He subtlety inched in front of Aunt Cass. _Be casual_ , he chanted, _be casual, be casual, be casual..._

He tried not to squirm under Tadashi’s stare, this being the first time he talked with him since the awkward morning. By the looks of it, his brother wasn’t fooled by their acting. “I’ve been inside the house all day,” Tadashi deadpanned, “but, if you want, you can take one yourself. You look a little tired.”

Hiro winced. His hours spent in the garage hadn’t gone unnoticed.

"How about you and Hiro go out for some ice cream?" Their aunt offered a little too eagerly. "It'll be my treat."

"Um..."

"You know what, we can all go to that place you like- you know, the one that serves the awesome banana splits- what's it called again?"

"The Perfect Split." Hiro answered without pause.

"Yes, that one. It'll just be the three of us and- and you can even get an extra cherry or two on top. Then, when we're all stuffing our faces we can just sit back and..." Here, she faltered, "... talk."

Tadashi's gripped the railing as he took a step down the stairs, catching onto the weird trill in her voice. "What wrong?" He spotted the envelope in Aunt Cass's hands. "What's that?"

A beat of silence.

Tadashi was getting more and more worried, looking like he was a second from barging down the rest of the stairs and demanding they tell him. "Aunt Cass..."

Looking between Tadashi and the paper in her hands, Aunt Cass made her decision. Hiro frantically shook his head, hoping to dissuade her, but he was ignored as she stepped away from him and offered the letter. Her voice, when she spoke, was gentle, “I’m so sorry...”

Her voice got softer and softer as Tadashi accepted the parchment, eyes sweeping over its words, lingering as it reached its end before stopping altogether. Then he became still, unnaturally so, and Hiro thought that maybe he never would move again and stay rooted in the spot forever.

Then Aunt Cass placed a hand on his older brother's bicep, shocking him back into reality. Brown eyes, almost identical to Hiro's, looked to their aunt, impossibly wide and unfocused; they blinked rapidly.

Hiro opened his mouth, then closed it with an audible click of his teeth. It caught the attention of his brother, whose head swiveled like an owl and pinned him to the spot. Hiro stared back, neck angling up slightly to look his brother in the eye; in that moment he felt incredible small, young, insignificant...

"Tadashi..." At the call of his name, Tadashi lifted his arms and wrapped them around the shoulders of both him and their aunt. From his position crushed against his brother's chest Hiro could hear the deep inhale he took, body shaking even as Aunt Cass stretched herself to envelop them both in a motherly hug.

"It's alright, it's alright. We'll get through this," his aunt whispered as she stroked the nape of their necks. "You'll be alright, I promise."

Hiro didn't speak, but returned the hug.

"Sweetie, I've got you- we're here."

He stood there, silently listening to his aunt's whisper sweet nothings and feel his brother's insistent trembling.

"It's gonna be alright."


	13. Nowhere to Run

It was raining the day of the memorial.

Even the usually bright cherry blossoms framing the institute were dulled by the gray skies, the flowers drooping as the rain drowned them. Masses of students and faculty marched the campus, candles sheltered under dark umbrellas and bowed heads. Every face Hiro saw looked ghoulish with their solemn expressions in the warm light.

Tadashi was silent throughout the entire procession.

Hiro stayed close to his brother, practically molded to his side. Sharing the umbrella made it impossible not to, but, even so, he didn't stray far. Thankfully, Tadashi wasn't in any mind to reject him, his focus only on his own candle.

The procession was slow, gaining people as they went; no one spoke, the rain drowning out everything but the loudest of the crying. Hiro wondered if this was how his parents' funeral was like, filled with hollow faces and sobs of the living, before deciding that he didn't want to know.

A photo was placed at the top of the stairs centering the entrance to the school, flowers framing the picture of a man whose eyes crinkled when he smiled. Hiro placed his flowers next to everyone else's (what had Aunt Cass called them- Sweet Peas?) and watched as Tadashi gently settled his own Aster (or maybe they were Daisies- but what did he know about stupid flowers) on the cold cement. When his brother straightened out again, trembling in the effort, Hiro let his hand slip into the other's larger one, palms brushing.

Tadashi squeezed his hand.

The car ride home was just as silent and it didn't get any better when they got home. Tadashi went straight to their room, quietly telling them that he wasn't hungry. Hiro looked after him, unsure of what to do. Days of skittering around each other couldn't just fade after a day of grief, could it?

Aunt Cass had gently pet his hair, just as unsure as he was, before moving to the kitchen (why bother when no one was going to eat tonight?). Although Hiro didn't remember his parents, Tadashi and Aunt Cass had spoken of them often enough for him to understand that their deaths hadn't been easy either; this was only another tally to be added to the list of lost loved ones.

He wanted to blame the school for sending the stupid letter. Wanted to blame the people who came up to his brother and voiced their loss (because of course everyone just had to say that they knew how close Tadashi had been with his teacher and how it must be hard). Wanted to blame the SFIT director for signaling out Tadashi in the sea of students, praising him for his bravery (though it was all for nothing, wasn't it?). Most of all, he wanted to blame Callaghan for dying in the first place. Leave it to a dead man to throw their life into chaos.

With their room taken over by Tadashi, Hiro took control of the garage. Without his brother questioning his every move, he thought he'd be able to breathe easier, but the dusty garage was still as suffocating as ever- whenever he cleared his throat, dislodging the particles stuck in his lungs, the noise would echo and frighten him in its loudness.

He put more effort into his work, forcing himself to forget his troubles. Baymax activated when he nearly crushed his hand, but he paid as much attention to him as he did his throbbing hand- which is to say, not at all. Until this real nightmare was over, nothing else mattered.

The sooner he finished, the sooner all his problems would vanish.

* * *

 

It only took a day for Hiro to get back on his feet and a few more to get involved in his planning. With the new day came the leave of Baymax, as well as the forced bed rest.

He took to wandering around the building, watching- but never interacting with- the inhabitants of such a place. Without his helmet and every pair of eyes in the establishment glancing at his face more often than he'd like, he was self-conscious and on edge. It didn't take long for him to realize that there was no need for that, no one was giving him any trouble. He had Baymax to thank for that, telling anyone and everyone just who he and his non-threatening design was affiliated with.

It also helped that no one had ever come into contact with his younger self, ignorant to his origins of the future. For now, he could leave his hero identity behind and not have to worry about the consequences.

He was lounging on one of the two stands surrounding the roller rink, watching as a group of children played; in truth, it was far too rough to be mere play- one boy swiped at a girl with a medium-sized dagger, whining loudly when it was slapped out of his hand and he was tackled to the ground by a boy from behind. They seemed to be at ease despite the countless thugs inhabiting the space, even going as far as to playful call out to one of the Fujitas sitting off to the side.

The small girl, for she was surely no older than fifteen, responded and turned her upper body in their direction. It allowed Hiro to finally get a good look at what she was doing: wrestling with some bunched up wiring in front of a control box.

He watched as the group of kids skipped over, surrounding the girl and leaning in so close that they nearly swallow the sight of her blonde head. They edged back a second later when the girl threw some casing onto the ground in her frustration- Hiro couldn't hide his wince at the sight of it cracking.

It only got worse as time went by, frustration bubbling over and it being directed at the poor technology. The kids offered various words of advice, but it was useless- none looked to be even familiar enough to even do a simple calibration on a printer.

Eventually, Hiro got up and made his way over to the struggling group, unable to watch the scene any longer. The girl looked barely a second from borrowing the knife from the tallest boy and driving it into the poor machine's servers and Hiro didn’t doubt that that was going to happen if he didn’t intervene. No piece of tech deserved that kind of treatment.

“Let me see.”

The group started, blinking up at him with various degrees of surprise. He only recognized the small blonde, tracing her back in his memory to the time where he first found out about the Fujita's less than adequate credence, though this time she lacked her geisha makeup, still dressed in her kimono and skates.

Hiro ignored the stares and motioned impatiently to the machine. "Do you mind?"

For whatever reason, she didn't rebuke him, accepting his help. He stepped between the shortest girl and boy, twins by the look of it, and kneeled down in the space given to him. Access to the machine came with the usual scrutinizing gaze he was oh-so-familiar with, five pairs of eyes (not even counting the countless others of the adults that never left him) watching as he tested a few of the controls.

Slowly, so that they could see what he was doing, he pried the side panel off; he grunted in the effort and immediately turned away, coughing, when dust billowed out of the box. He waved a hand, eyes squinting even as he pulled out a miniature flashlight and shined its light into the dark opening, peering inside.

A mass of wires were what greeted him, tangled so immensely that he wondered in awe whether anything was actually plugged in. His eyebrows rose to his hairline, astounded that anything was working in the derby. Were most of these actually necessary?

“I don’t know how... but a ton of this wiring is off,” he mumbled to himself, leaning forward to get a better look. Whoever had been in charge of setting this up either hadn’t known what they were doing or had been incredibly lazy. "It's a surprise you've lasted this long without blowing a fuse."

The tallest boy, black hair gelled stylishly, twiddled with his knife- far too close to Hiro's face. "One of Yama's contacts most likely."

The teenager nodded, catching the disdain in the voices around him as the group murmured their agreement. Adjusting himself so that he was sitting cross-legged, he made himself comfortable (Baymax would be pleased at there being almost no pain) and began his newly obtained challenge.

He threw unnecessary and too badly damaged pieces to the side, their only function to take up space. By a few minutes, he’d collected a small pile, which, in itself, was quite disconcerting. He reached inside the coincidently placed toolbox by his left foot, searching until he found what he was looking for. Pliers in hand, he snipped four wires and reconnected them so that they crossed rather than lay parallel to each other, pinching their ends to decrease any future chances of dissever. Next came the sea of wires, which he skillfully untangled and set straight- it taking a good majority of his time.

How did he even get to fixing up the derby of the gang who was out for his brother? They had other criminals who were tech savvy- he'd seen them tinkering away, so why was fate deciding he'd be the convenient mechanic? Hiro had been the Lucky Cat's very own handyman for years, but he didn't think he'd be extending out his services.

Someone was leaning over his left shoulder, the breathing loud in his ears: one of the kids, who he thought would've left him by now.

“Hey, give me a hand, ” he called to the blonde girl- it only took one look at her to know that she’d easily shave off an hour of work. Small hands were just what he needed.

“Excuse me?”

Hiro patted the space next to him without tearing his eyes from his work.

He dumped half the wiring on her lap when she hesitantly scooted over- close enough to help, but not close enough to touch- and sighed in relief when he could actually see the cooling fan, “Now, that’s so much better. I’m going to need you to untangle that for me.”

There was some commotion behind him and he twisted in his seat to see the twins arguing in a loud whisper, trying to shove their way past a hefty looking boy munching on some chips. They stopped at his questioning look, looking embarrassed at having been caught.

“Why does she get to help?” the girl asked, pointing a finger at the mini Fujita dutifully following his request.

“Yeah, we wanted to…” her twin trailed off.

Hiro was surprised, wondering idly if this was how Tadashi felt- all older-like. “You guys can help too, but just… be careful, okay?”

Curly, brown hair bobbed as they nodded their heads and plopped down on either side of the blonde, hands eagerly tugging at the pile.

Hiro sighed, shaking his head in disbelief and amusement before looking at the two remaining boys. He cocked an eyebrow at them, silent in his question. The taller one shrugged, sheathing his knife and stashing it in his pocket before kneeling down and joining the rest. The other, however, shook his head in disinterest- instead, he angled his chip bag in the teenager’s direction.

Hiro took two chips, humming with pleasure as their salty flavor hit his tongue. It was a testament of his loneliness when he imagined Baymax listing the total number of carbs, a lesson on nutrition always in supply.

With the majority of the kids distracted, it left Hiro free to roll up his sleeves and focus his attention back to the machine without the unnecessary supervision. He switched off the partial lights, ignoring the loud hiss that sounded out when the lights covering the rink blinked out, and switched out a panel for another one (there was a virtually untouched pile of them in the control box, much to Hiro’s exasperation and delight).

A quiet muttering rushed throughout the room when he switched the main lights back on, no flickering or dimming bulbs present as the rink was highlighted in a gold glow. Hiro smiled, pleased at the success.

"You know, you're pretty smart."

Hiro paused only a moment, fingers just about to pinch a metal clip which helped separate the rink’s lighting and the side bar and tables. He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been told.”

One of the twins played with a wire like a snake. “Yeah, but how can you know so much about this kind of stuff- you're, like, just a kid.”

Hiro felt the usual feeling of insult, wanting to give a hot retort, but he stopped himself. "Technically, I'm an adult." He clicked a few limp wires in their place, now onto the section of the panels that controlled the audio system. “I'm older than any of you, anyway.”

“But only the _grown-ups_ ,” the chip-eating boy stressed the title, giving it a connotation that went beyond Hiro's eighteen years of life, “know how to do stuff like this.” A salty finger pointed at the reorganized control box.

“Well, I've always had a knack for that kind of thing, even when I was your age.” He paused, considering, before continuing. "I'm kind of a certified genius."

"Ren didn't say anything about that..." Hiro flashed the small blonde a look, wondering how close she was to the head Fujita, before focusing back onto his work.

"Really?” It was always nice to know what people thought of you, especially frenemies. "What did she say?"

"That you're a 'stupid kid in way over his head who doesn't know when to stop talking.'"

Hiro couldn't help but laugh at that, some of the stress that was weighing him down fading and leaving him lighter. He’d almost forgotten how good it felt. It was good that at least Ren was fitting the picture he had painted her in, insults and all. "Glad she thinks so much of me. I mean, she's not far off- back when I was younger I thought I knew everything.”

“Younger you sounds annoying,” the blonde declared, unabashed when the tallest boy threw her a warning look. But Hiro was, strangely, not offended.

“Yeah, you're right.” Hiro smiled wryly, thinking back to the countless arguments with his brother about motivation and ‘the right college for him.' He closed a panel and moved to the next. “I always felt bad for my brother, having to deal with me all the time.”

“You have a brother?” the boy twin asked.

Hiro twisted his back, low-key checking if Ren or anyone he didn't want listening was in proximity in the guise of stretching, before answering. It felt nice talking to these kids, nonjudgmental and innocent (as far as he was concerned, they hadn't tried to kill someone's brother as of late) as they were; the last time he had talked so openly to people- people who weren't Baymax- was long before he had fallen through the portal and it left him a bit wanting. “Yeah, I do.”

“Is he like you?” Chip-boy asked, and Hiro assumed he was referring to the work in his arms and not his nights spent as a sort-of-vigilante.

The teenager thought of Baymax and all his medical procedures. Of all the hours of work that had to be put into designing, organizing, creating such an enormous project. Thought of how the nursebot surpassed every expectation and was limitless in its success, bounding pass set standards and making history with every patient he helped. How it had all started with a single idea, sincere and pure in what it wanted for the world (for Hiro), and blossomed into something great. How Baymax had become so much more than a simple healthcare companion- a friend, true and wholesome in every way.

“No,” Hiro told the kids, correcting the last of the wiring, “he's better.”

With that he stood up, bracing his hands on his knees as his joints groaned and brushing the dirt off his pants. The group looked up at him, hands disentangling themselves from the lump of excess wires, questioningly.

“Hey, aren't you going to finish?” Mini-Fujita had the beginnings of a frown forming.

Hiro gave her a sidelong glance, flipping the main switch of the box.

The machine started, sputtering and then humming with life within seconds. There were surprised voices sounding out from all over the building as music started playing, followed by cheers; the sound wasn’t the best quality, but it was a start- nothing a few tweeks couldn’t fix.

Hiro made his leave, telling the kids to leave the wiring for later, unaware of the sharp eye of an eye patch wearing woman that watched him from across the room.

* * *

Even with the big reveal that he did not in fact live under a bridge, the knowledge that Fred was inherently wealthy was strange. One of the smaller surprises in a month filled with wild realizations, leading GoGo to take it in stride along with everything else.

Which was why, by her second visit, she was completely as ease (but not totally at ease, what with the ripped Fred portrait following her every move- God, it was unnerving).

By unanimous agreement this current meeting would be held under the assumption that their youngest member wouldn't be present. Sneaky, GoGo knew, but necessary all the same; if they were going to discuss the real issues, they needed Hiro and his emotional irrationality out of the picture momentarily.

Before the others could get thoroughly distracted by the intricate fruit platter Fred's butler was presenting them- Gogo quickly looked away before the sweet sight of the pineapple there could tempt her- she cleared her throat. “Alright, let's get down to business.”

“Yes!” Fred readily agreed, jumping over the couch and nearly tripping and face planting when his foot hooked onto its back. “Let the super secret, incredibly awesome and majorly stupendous meeting commence!”

Honey Lemon sat against the couch’s arm, a plate holding an assortment of fruit sitting daintily in her lap. “Where do we even start?”

“How about with the countless people trying to kill us?” Wasabi suggested from where he was still picking out fruit, color coding the entirety of his plate with immaculate dedication. “I find that's always a good place to start.”

Gogo narrowed her eyes at the young man’s sarcastic tone. “We'll start with the guy in purple- the one from the news- since we know next to nothing about him.”

“Oh ho, I wouldn't say we know nothing,” Fred announced, grinning and, at the Korean’s deadpan look, waving a hand at Heathcliff, trying to get the man’s attention. “Heathcliff, bro, you brought the thing right?”

The man nodded. “Of course, Master Frederick.”

Setting down the platter, the butler bent down and retrieved a book from thin air, offering it to their comic nerd friend. When the boy eagerly took it the man bowed and politely excused himself, taking his leave with talk of other duties.

Using more fanfare than necessary, Fred presented to them what was in his grasp. It was a thick binder, covered by felt shapes and designs. GoGo raised an eyebrow at the title. “The Secret Life of San Fransokyo,” she read.

Opening the book, she was presented with the most thorough biography of San Fransokyo’s criminal side GoGo had ever seen.

Impeccable writing, cursive and legible and obviously not Fred’s, was everywhere; detailed summaries and side notes littered the sides, some even hidden and folded so intricately that GoGo was so entirely sure that Fred had nothing to do with it she would bet her favorite bike on it. If anything leaked out that something this discriminating existed, San Fransokyo would surely find itself in the middle of a chaotic revolt.

Noticing their slack jaws and stares, Fred grinned. “Heathcliff likes to scrapbook.”

They crowded around the thing, eyes widening when it was unveiled how truly detailed the reports were. Pictures, far more enhanced than those found in the newspapers, were taped down everywhere, notes on the who, what, where and even why littering the space around them. A few articles even had an attached autopsy report, detailed enough that Wasabi quickly turned away, looking green, and Honey had to turn the page.

“Where did you get all this, Freddie?” Honey asked, trailing down a page to read the next article, which had an account that was more in depth than any police report. Wasabi leaned over her shoulder and peered curiously (yet, cautiously) at the contents of the book.

Fred looked pleased at their responses.

“Me and Heathcliff keep up with the news and whatnot. I like to keep track of everything that's going on in town- gangs, police brutality, street wars- it makes it easier to find the good stories.” He grinned. “Makes finding the heroes easier.”

Gogo blinked, surprised. Sometimes it was easy to forget Fred wasn't a troll and actually had a life that wasn't centered on being a school mascot. That even with the obsession with superheroes and the world of comics, though unrealistic as they were, their friend actually had a good heart. That there was nothing wrong in hoping someone out there was fighting for the greater good.

Wasabi squinted down at an article filled with squiggly lines. “Some of these aren't even in the same language.”

Fred waved his hand absently, saying something about butlers who were fluent in sixty-four languages, including various nonverbal systems. GoGo found that Heathcliff was slowly gaining her respect and appreciation, what with his increasing list of skills. “Heathcliff put translations somewhere in there, but that’s not important. Go to page two-sixty-three.”

Dutifully, Honey flipped to the page, easily found because countless loose leaf papers were stuck within its crease. A few fell out as the book’s spine spread open- Wasabi immediately bent down to collect them-, their corners dog-eared and passages highlighted.

Page two-sixty-three turned out to be a collection of articles, pictures, and police reports on the local, purple-clad vigilante patrolling the city. Fred looked incredibly proud, squealing on about his hero. “The dude’s amazing, I’m telling you. He's been stopping robberies, muggings, and all kinds of stuff. The police don't know what to do about it- he's all but doing their job for them.”

The boy clasped his hands together, eyes unfocusing. “This guy has it all. Wicked armor and weapons to match- I'm talking high quality, futuristic tech here-”

Wasabi scoffed at the massive display of fangirling, watching as Fred acted out a scene from a popular action movie.

“-wish I knew who was behind the mask. We could help, all of us, and he-”

“Or she," one of the girls cut in. “Our hero might be a girl.”

Fred made a buzzer noise, only to duck away from GoGo’s punch. “Nope. Definitely a dude.”

He then went on to tell them of his encounter, miming out the fight. As they listened, GoGo fought the urge to interrupt when he broke off his train of thought and compared the events to a particular comic Heathcliff had gotten him for his birthday a few months ago. The guy had the attention span of a goldfish.

“But how does that relate back to Tadashi?” Gogo cut in, never one to exhibit exceeding patience.

Fred stopped mid-word to shuffle through the papers, uncaring how he was upsetting the organization it was obviously in and the war zone the area was becoming to look like. Honey offered her help and began rifling through the chaos too, though Gogo was sure the girl had no clue on what she was actually looking for.

But it was Wasabi who found whatever it was, leafing through the papers in his grasp while lips thinned into a straight line as he skimmed over them. “This is from the night of the fire.”

Honey reached for the paper and Wasabi relinquished it to her, crossing his arms in thoughtful agitation.

“It is…” the tall girl breathed, angling the paper so Gogo could lean over and take a peek; her eyebrows furrowed and her small lips puckered into a frown. “It's a sighting report.”

Fixing her glasses, she read: “‘On Tuesday, April 21, a suspect was spotted within the San Fransokyo’s Institute of Technology Exposition Hall half hour before explosion. An unnamed officer on site identified the individual, at a later time, to be the very same individual that would make more appearances within the following weeks- none other than San Fransokyo's own, self-proclaimed vigilante.’”

Fred was all but breathing down their necks. “This was the first report- his big entrance, if you will.”

“That's too much of a coincidence, isn't it? Him showing up just in time for the fire.” Wasabi ran a palm across his jaw, expression looking thoughtful. “Who's to say he doesn't have something to do with it?”

“Well, he has been keeping out of the public’s eye. But I'm guessing that that’s more because it keeps him out of jail since the police have a notice out for his arrest- I think they think he started the fire.”

Honey gasped and Wasabi twitched. The later looking unnerved that his earlier suspicion might have a grain of truth to it. “Well, did he?”

The shorter man shook his head. “Nah, I don't think he's that kind of dude.”

“You only met him once, you can't possibly know-”

“I'm sure,” the boy returned, stubborn in a way Gogo had never seen. “Dude’s as good as Megazon is vicious.”

For sure, Gogo knew nothing about comics or whatever fantasy land Fred had ever read about, but she was sure that was as solid an answer as the comic nerd could get. So Gogo nodded, taking in the information. San Fransokyo’s so-called hero was on their side as far as they (Fred) knew, but could still be a wild card- unreliable in the mystery that shrouded him. For sure, he was someone that they needed to keep an eye on.

“Oh, but wait, there's more.” The comic nerd suddenly perked up, snatching at the sighting report and flipping it over, pushing it right under the other man's nose. “Look at this beauty.”

Wasabi’s eyes went cross-eyed in their effort to focus on what he was being shown, “‘Numerous bystanders and victims alike reported seeing a figure dressed in armor-’” He stopped, eyes skimming ahead and voice lowering when he finally continued. “‘-directing people out of the fire and to safety. Suspect made notable rescue of one Hamada, Tadashi, whom was taken into immediate care after the two exited the building post explosion.’”

“So, he’s the one who saved Tadashi? That’s great,” Honey said, looking relieved at that new information. “At least he’s on our side, right?”

“Definitely. Can’t get any more heroic than him.”

“But the police still think he started the fire?”

Fred shrugged. “He's the only lead they have.”

“Wait, stop, stop, stop.” Gogo held up a hand, tone disbelieving. “Are you trying to tell me that this guy is what? Tadashi's own, personal hero?”

“Oh, like a guardian angel!” Honey chirped. “Then maybe we can ask him for help.”

Here, Fred looked unsure, pausing in his engulfment of a stack of crackers that had previously been on the fruit platter. “There haven’t been any sightings of him since a couple days ago- someone saw him enter the old Kioka factory in the slums, but never come out… Though I hear it's completely wrecked now- rotting foundation is what the official report is saying, that it came down on itself.”

There was a pause, one where Gogo could spot the hesitancy in their comic friend’s aura. She knew what he was trying to get at- that if this hero was seen entering, but never leaving and the entire thing had collapsed on itself, then it was to be assumed that he had been in there when it had happened. That the likelihood of survival was low.

But Fred continued nonetheless, sounding ever hopeful even as he said, “He’s completely disappeared from radar.”

She cleared her throat at the silence that followed, deeming it appropriate and imperative to move the conversation along. “And what about the Fujitas?”

Fred flipped forward a couple of pages, bringing them to an article clipping summarizing the events of a heist, the blurred figures of kimono wearing women in its picture. “They're strictly hired under Yama ever since he gained more territory last summer. Boss man’s been busy.”

A snippet of article caught GoGo’s attention, once again not believing what she was reading. “Hold up? Yama’s the top boss of five of the eight districts? When did that happen?” GoGo prided herself on knowing the going-ons of the city, but could practically begin to feel the title slipping out of her fingers and into Fred’s; it was an unpleasant thought, what with the boy's finger dusted with crumbs. “No wonder Yokai went to him. He’s practically ruling the city.”

Fred flipped back half the book, eyes skimming over an article featuring a large man that bared his teeth primitively at the camera. “Yeah, he took up the seat when his processor kicked the bucket nine- no, eleven months ago.”

Honey Lemon brought a manicured hand to her mouth, gentle heart shining in her eyes. Of course she would be sad over someone's death- even that of a notorious and ruthless criminal- Gogo thought as she touched the tip of her foot to her friend's ankle, offering some physical (and minimal) comfort.

Fred saw this and nudged her with his shoulder, smile less obnoxious and more considerate than usual. “From old age.”

The tall girl relaxed her posture. “Oh, that's good.”

Wasabi grimaced at the paragraph he was skimming through and, needing clarification, asked, “And for those who don't know… who’s Yama?”

“An idiot thug,” GoGo explained, Fred nodding along in agreement. “Don’t know how he got power in the first place, but he’s been rising to the top ever since. Loves money and bot fights, hates to lose- you know, the greedy and sore loser type.”

“I think you mean the dangerous and would-gut-us-in-a-heartbeat type.” Wasabi- always the optimistic.

“Oh, he doesn't sound nice at all,” Honey said, ignoring Gogo's ‘he's not,’ as she closed the book in her lap and set it on the cushion next to her. “It's scary thinking that a guy like that is after Tadashi- I mean, why would anyone want to hurt Tadashi? He's so sweet and nice.”

GoGo had to agree, their friend was one of the nicest people she'd ever met (the boy would stand in front of traffic for a stranger in need, and then take the blame if a car hit him). “Yeah, plus we don't even know when he'll be attacked again.”

“Maybe we could see if anything happens,” Honey suggested, “hang around him, and Hiro too, like, like...”

“Bodyguards?” Fred offered.

“Yes!” the girl agreed, warming to the title with a smile. “Exactly, that.”

Tossing her plate, GoGo leaned back to eye her friend. “So, essentially, we follow them wherever they go and keep an eye on them- with them completely oblivious of course.”

Honey’s browned furrowed at her elaboration. “Are you saying we should stalk them?”

GoGo popped a stick of gum in her mouth, not caring what kind of label they were going to give it. “You're the one who brought it up.”

Honey couldn't argue with that, but looked a little uncomfortable. “I know, but when you say it like that, it sounds like…”

“Like we're going behind their backs? Yeah, that's kind of the point.”

“Gogo's right,” Wasabi declared, setting a reassuring hand onto the taller girl’s shoulder. “What else can we do? We already agreed to be superheroes”

“Let’s do a stakeout,” Fred fist pumped. “But, we'll need code names and snacks, lots of snacks. I'm thinking donuts.”

“So, like… are we doing this?” Wasabi asked, letting the comic nerd gather his list of necessary snacks. “Like really doing this?”

Fred jumped up from his seat again, barely able to control his excitement. “Oh, we are so doing this!” He pounds a fist against his chest, head raised high. “For our bro, Tadashi, and his little bro, Hiro.”

* * *

Hiro woke up falling.

It was dream- a nightmare really. He was standing with heat kissing his face and cold pressed against his back- two extremes threatening to swallow him whole. People whipped past him- no, wait, he was alone. He was alone. Abandoned.

Invisible hands pulled him forward, pinning him to the ground. Their grip, iron-like, bruised where they held strong on his struggling form; they tightened when masks rose from the fire, shaking their fiery manes as they swooped down. Gaping mouths, ever terrifying with the smoke that trailed out of their sides, widened and sucked out all the air in his lungs, leaving him suffocating. They laughed at his gasps, the sound grating and spine-chilling.

Hiro squeezed his eyes shut.

When he opened them a second later he was lying on his garage floor, staring at wooden beams that made its ceiling. They trembled and groaned as they shifted, shaking like animated skeletons, before falling altogether, fire bursting through their seams and raining down on him. He screamed, bringing his hands up in a futile attempt to defend himself.

The beams made contact, crashing into h-

He awoke, fully and truly.

Hiro jerked when he realized he was still in his garage, only relaxing slightly when he saw that the ceiling above him was silent and stable not threatening to break and crush him. Another second and he was taking in his sprawled position across the floor: his left foot still hooked around the rolling chair he remembered sitting in before sleep had overcome him.

Bringing himself to his elbows, he took a moment to calm his heartbeat. A chill raced up his spine, the freezing temperature of the garage floor numbing his arms and the fire of fear lingering in his head. When he finally got himself off the floor and back into the chair he spotted a blanket half draped over the back of it.

A token of Tadashi's presence, come and gone.

Hiro shivered, wrapping it around his shoulders and snuggling into its warmth. Tadashi had always told him he was going catch his death falling asleep here...

“Not that you would let that happen, eh, buddy?” the boy called out, turning in his seat to look at where his robot friend usually set shop.

Except, the corner was empty, devoid of both inflated marshmallow and his case.

“Baymax?”

There was no response from the empty room nor an answering beep of activation from the stairs.

Hiro frowned, rising from the chair and taking the necessary steps toward the door, and peeking out. Nothing. Only shadows and crickets playing their nightly tune were there to greet him.

The boy climbed the stairs, cringing when one of the older floorboards creaked under his weight, and checked his room. Eyes scanned the clutter and eerie glow the streetlight outside provided, spotting his brother's sleeping form under the covers of his own bed. But still no Baymax.

He slipped back downstairs and into the cafe, keeping close to the wall so as to not run into anything.

“Where is he?” he muttered to himself when, just like with the rest of the house, the area was deemed nursebot-free.

Then something touched his leg.

Hiro jumped, throwing himself flat against the wall, arms splayed out. In the spur of the moment, eyes scanned the room, searching for a means to defend himself- the broom leaning against the wall to his left was looking pretty adequate. It wasn't until the thought was on its way to becoming a reality that Hiro finally risked a glance down; he let out the breath he was holding, hand coming up to brace against his pounding heart.

“Mochi!” the boy whispered loudly, composing himself, “what are- don't scare me like that!”

“Mreow,” was all the cat had to say for himself, head tilting as he watched the human with big, luminous eyes. His tail swished across the floor, pausing in its rhythm only when Hiro walked over and reached down to run a hand along the cat’s spine.

“You haven't see Baymax have you?” he asked the cat, giving the feline a good scratch under its chin.

The feline said nothing, instead arching his back and rubbing it against the boy's shin, tail shaking in an unspoken desire.

Hiro sighed. “Mochi, you can't have a midnight snack- Aunt Cass put you on a diet, remember?”

Big eyes, which shined unnervingly bright in the dark, pleaded otherwise. And when his owner didn't move the cat padded over to the door and scratched at it, looking imploringly at Hiro.

Brows furrowed. “Outside?”

Hiro followed and pressed his face against the glass of the door, eyes taking in the abandoned street. No one was out there, just the occasional car passing through, there being no sight of his nursebot.

Frowning, Hiro turned toward Mochi before once again facing the street. Making a split decision, he quietly headed upstairs, tiptoeing past a sleeping Tadashi; he was lucky that he'd left his shoes and jacket out, so he was out of the room in a flash with no one the wiser. It took only a moment for him to open the door, cringing dramatically when the bell atop it trembled slightly, and he was out.

Waving a quick goodbye to Mochi who still pawed at the glass separating him and the rest of the world, Hiro set down the street. His feet were set at a mildly quick place, both out of desire not to linger in the cold and for anyone to see him, and had him in the shabbier part of the city in no time flat. The preteen peeked down alleyways and behind abandoned apartment complexes, cautiously calling for his robot friend; his voice echoed unnervingly back to him, leading him to stop calling altogether.

“This is pointless,” Hiro said after a half hour of searching, kicking a crumbling wall and watching a chunk of brick bounce off the corner of a neighboring building and skit into an dark alley.

“Ow!” a bodiless voice erupted from the silence.

Hiro instantly threw himself in a small alcove tucked between the two buildings he was next to. And it was huddled there that he saw the men stationed in the alleyway.

One had the biggest nose Hiro had ever seen and the other was covered head to toe with tattoos, looking like the underside of a tagged metro bridge. Big-Nose was rubbing his left ankle while the other fiddled with a clear bag full of a brownish- green substance. They were both sitting on crates.

Hiro eyes went wide when he saw the red bird logo he’d come to memorize painted across the side of one.

“What's up?” Tattoo guy barely spared his companion a glance.

“Something hit me.” Big-Nose looked around, eyes trailing over where Hiro was- he ducked further into his hiding spot, willing himself to camouflage into the dark background.

“Ain't nothing here.” There was some scuffling, the crinkling of paper and the ignition of a lighter, followed almost immediately by a loud exhale.

“I know-”

“What- a ghost hit you then?”

“Listen here, don't you go and-”

A large car drove up to the entrance of the alleyway, headlights bright like solar flares as they flickered on and off twice. A door opened and third man with a durag joined the fray, immediately reaching for one of the crates. He hefted it over his shoulder with a grunt, struggling under its weight, and deposited in the back of the vehicle.

“What going on? Get off yer’ lazy butts and help!” the newcomer barked the question and order as he stepped forward, obviously annoyed with the others’ lack of help, and far too close to the boy's hiding space.

“He's going on about ghosts,” explained the second voice, but moved to get up.

The first one growled, angry, “Don't you make fun of me. I'm telling you- something hit me.”

Hiro dared not to even breathe.

“Forget it. Boss called- the shipment is late and he wants us back.”

There was some grumbling, but the two men got to work, picking up the crates and setting them in the back of the vehicle; whatever was inside rattled as they were transferred from place to place. It took approximately twenty-three minutes and fifty-seven seconds for them to finish loading the van and every second was agonizing for Hiro. He lost feeling in his right leg and the cold was starting to seep through his jacket, biting at his vulnerable skin. But, eventually, _thankfully_ , they were beginning to pile into the car.

Hiro sighed and unfroze himself, knees aching, from the position he had been holding. He slowly inched out of his hiding spot, eyes not straying from the moving shadows of the retreating men,- only to bump into a trashcan.

Hiro violently twitched at the sound of the thing toppling over, shoulders hunching as the lid rolled in a bumpy circle and clattered on the ground five feet away.

A head popped out of the car’s window. “What was that?”

The boy started at the words, which had moved closer once again- the men were coming _back_. Blowing all caution to the wind, Hiro stumbled out of the small alcove and ran.

“Hey!”

He was spotted, one of the men yelling and pointing at his retreating form. Hiro ran faster. But fate was not on his side. It laughed as it had him trip over the lone trash can lid as he tried to jump over it, slipping and falling as his balance was snatched away from him. It found pleasure when heavy footfalls caught up with him and calloused hands grabbed at him and threw him against a wall.

Hiro looked up into the faces of the thugs taking in their hard lines and rough edges. There was surprise in their expressions even as the one in the outskirts said, “It's a kid!”

He was pushed away; roughing someone up, an age old practice of intimidation. “What's a kid doing out here? Kid, what are you doing?”

Hiro's answer was immediate, years of lying under his belt. “Nothing.”

“Nothing sure looks suspicious,” one of them said menacingly. “You a narc, huh? A wanna-be trying to get in the big leagues?”

“No, I swear-”

“Cause you look familiar- real familiar.”

“What? No.” Hiro waved his arms, palms facing out, as he shook his head. “We've never- I'm just walking thro- no… I- no.”

The one who spoke out leaned forward, “Nah, I'm sure I've seen you before…” Lips pursed, then, suddenly, his eyes lit with recognition. “You're the little punk who goes to the bot fights down in the Toraburu district, aren't cha?”

Before Hiro could deny the accusation he was cut off. “Hey, yeah! That stupid kid who cheated everyone!"

He smiled, nervously, slowly backing away. From the faces surrounding him, which were beginning to take on an angry hue, he decided that it be for the best for him to make his exit. Sticking around would only lead to trouble.

“You know what, I'll just go- you don't want me here and I don't want to be here…”

Hiro stumbled when one of the men got up in his face. “I lost a lot of money ‘cause of you!”

“Look, I'm sorry ab-”

"Wait- isn't this also the punk who done Sumi in?" One of them shook Hiro, the collar of his shirt almost ripping with the force. "It is, isn't it?"

“Doesn't Yama have a price on his big ol’ head?”

Hiro's stomach dropped at the name. It had been so long since his last bot fight, but not long enough apparently. The fat man had been stupid and an all-out thug, deserving of being cheated, but Hiro didn't say that out loud.

Lips pulled back in a hideous sneer, yellow teeth on clear display as the man’s less than attractive breath wafted around his face; Hiro did his best to hold in a gag. “Yeah, I think he does…”

"Woah, let's take a deep breathe guys- because whoever you think I am..." He trailed off when one of the men left his vision, only to return with a large, roll of rope ( _who just had rope lying around?_ ). "I- I don't even know this Sumi girl."

The moment the words came out his mouth, he knew he said the wrong thing. Could people who were already furious get angrier? Hiro supposed they could, judging from the men, who, honestly and wholly, looked ready to try and rip out his throat.

Taking a few steps back, hands held up in a placating fashion, his back hit something hard. He looked up, giving him an all too close view of the scowling, giant of a man barricading his backwards retreat. Another came up to stop him from backtracking, truly surrounding the boy.

"Pardon me."

Hiro's hopes lifted at the monotone voice, only to deflate a second later. _No, no, no, not now_ , he thought, _please don't, whatever you do, don't_ -

A pair of thugs shifted to reveal an innocent-looking Baymax. Where he had come from, Hiro could only imagine, but that thought process flew straight out of his mind once the precariousness of the situation settled in.

Now, no one was ever prepared for Baymax, the thugs no exceptions to that universal rule as they stared at the robot in utter confusion. Baymax, sticking out like a sore thumb with his pudgy curves in a place filled with thick lines and sharp corners, didn't seem aware of his effect. "You are causing my patient distress. I must ask that you release him.”

The one man not invading Hiro's personal space moved to invade Baymax’s, squinting as he took in the sight of the robot. “Who’re you?”

“I am Baymax, a personal healthcare companion.” A chubby finger lifted and pointed to where Hiro was uncomfortably squished between two rippling chests; the boy hunched into himself and laughed nervously when three pairs of eyes zeroed in on him. “And that is my patient.” “

I don't care if he's your great aunt Sally- we're taking him.” The big man flicked his finger and the other two pushed Hiro in the opposite direction.

“Hey, what're you do-” He tried to pull one of the men's fingers back like he had seen Gogo do once. “Don't touch him!”

Baymax made a move to intervene, but suddenly froze, form stuttering for a fraction of a moment before collapsing onto the ground. The thug closest to him jerked back, surprised with the rest of them.

Long spikes protruded from the robot's back, tearing through his vinyl outer layer.

“Bay-”

Then his nightmares had become a reality when the shadows started to move, coming to life as a masked face surfaced out of their dark depths. Microbots circled them and Hiro refrained from cringing closer to the thugs and away from the creeping mass, setting him on edge with the constant clicking.

The crates started rattling. Every possible exit was barred off as the buildings’ sides were taken over.

Hiro stared, words caught in his throat.

The thugs didn't even twitch, focused as they were on him and stamping onto the defenseless form of Baymax. And Hiro didn't know what was more horrific: the masked man or a nursebot who wasn't even capable of healing itself.

He blinked and Yokai disappeared, in his place dark figures brandishing bats and long spikes. One of them grinned. “Well, will you look at this- there's a party going on and no one invited us.”

Big-Nose made a turnabout, squinted at the newcomers before making a noise of approval, “Bout time you showed up- the shipment’s ready.”

A woman branched off from the new group, slinking over to the van and inspecting the crates and their contents. After a moment, she looked up and nodded.

“We'll be taking both the shipment and the kid.” There was an unspoken signal and a suitcase was brought out and opened for all to see, bounded money tightly packed and filling the entire space.

Big-Nose sneered and the hold on Hiro's shoulder tightened, making the boy wince. “We ain't handing him over. The bounty on him is ours.”

The head man didn't so much as twitch, instead casting a look at someone behind him and nodding. “We'll make it worthwhile,” he said just as four stacks of wadded cash was set atop the suitcase.

The head thug remained silent, ignoring the sputtering coming from Big-Nose and the low whistle that his tattooed friend made. Hooded eyes traveled between the other group and Hiro before finally settling on the offer, considering. Hiro could see the thug’s decision even before he spoke, “He's your problem now.”

The hold on him was released, Hiro stumbling when he legs gave out from underneath him for a second, and money was passed from one to another. It was quick and efficient, the exchange, and the two groups separating immediately after; within seconds, the three thugs were retreating and out of sight.

The moment Hiro was released he headed straight for the pile of vinyl and metal still a pathetic lump on the ground, Baymax far more important than the deadly persons surrounding him. Knees hit the ground as he crawled toward the robot, fingers grazing the vinyl and sputtering mechanics underneath. He could see how a few pieces of the skeleton were bent and in need of immediate replacement, not to mention the misalignment of the entire spinal unit.

But, before he could do anything, hands came into his view and grabbed at Baymax.

“H-hey!” He swatted them way, only they pushed him back. Then he was yanked back, rough hands grasping his arms.

"Take him to Kobe Hill."

"Let go! Le-mmph!" A hand slapped over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. A laugh rang out among some of the men, overshadowing the more politically neutral faces.

Whatever was going to happen, he wasn’t going to have a say in the matter, pushed around like a ragdoll. He kicked and twisted, hoping to loosen his captor's grip- at least enough so he could escape, run and get help because he couldn't just leave Baymax.

He succeeded momentarily, body freeing itself and making its way towards the robot, the soles of his sneakers skidding along the damp concrete in their haste.

He needed to run, to get to Baymax- to Tadashi.

Where was Tadashi?

His plans were put to a stop when arms snaked their way under his arms and jerked him back, legs kicking the air uselessly as he was lifted. He yelled, struggling with all his might.

“Shut him up! Someone's going to hear!” A hand was again clamped over his mouth.

He bit at the human muzzle, feeling a spark of satisfaction when the hand retreated and its owner hissed in pain. He let out a yell that he was certain would be heard all around San Fransokyo (surely someone- Tadashi- would hear it and come and help).

“Will you quit playing around and shut him up.” a voice to his left growled, faceless in the shadow of the building.

A dirty rag, smelling of alcohol and oil, was stuffed into his mouth; Hiro gagged on it, head jerking back in protest even as its ends were tied into a tight knot at the back of his head. He screamed again, but it was useless, the sound muffled into a whisper of terror. Someone took his hands and tightly tied them together, the rope digging into his wrists.

A hit to his stomach had him stumbling and falling, instinctively curling inward in a defensive ball. He coughed as someone threw him over their shoulder, their gate jostling him and shoving the sharp bone of their shoulder into his lower abdomen.

The last thing he saw was Baymax’s limp form, head tilted in the van’s direction, watching as he was thrown into the back of a waiting van. Legs twitched uselessly, their rhythm slowing until they come to a complete and heart wrenching stop.

Then the sliding door slammed shut and Hiro was submerged in the dark.

* * *

The street was silent when the gang left. No one was there to spot Damato as he made his way to the downed robot. He knelt over it, giving it a once over; the metal skeleton seen through the thin skin was offsetting, creepy even.

The head twitched and he jerked back violently. “Holy-!”

“B-Baymax… I am h- hea-”

Like a broken record the thing repeated what resembled words, stuttering and filling the sudden silence of the alleyway. Damato scooted back a few steps, wary in case it started to attack (he'd seen enough movies to know how that went down).

Now, to try and make sense of what he had just witnessed. Not that he knew where to even start.

No, that was wrong. He knew exactly what happened, but none of that was _possible_.

Yokai had been here. The guy never willingly seeked out anyone besides Yama, but, for whatever reason, he'd made an exception for some kid.

The kid. A small, skinny kid, who had just been abducted in front of Damato- for the bounty of the champion of the Sumi bot battles, no less. But he hadn't beaten Sumi, that had been-

 _Nope, not considering that_ , he thought, _I'm not crazy and that's crazy talk_.

“-p- personal health…pa- patien-nt confident- dent- dentality-,” the thing at his feet said pitifully.

And he couldn't forget how he now had a broken robot on his hands, one that was a regular to Ren’s place.

“-jumped… win-indow-”

Oh man, how was he going to deal with this? He preferred being on the sidelines, not a main character. To observe rather than pursue. It was the sole reason he joined the broker business- intelligence was something everyone needed and would pay heavily for, so he wouldn't have to deal with stuff like this. But, ever since that guy- San Fransokyo's own guard dog of all people, had jumped him he was getting a front row seat to an interactive play.

He mussed up his hair, thinking.

“Progn-no-osis compl- ete-” the robot raised a hand, unable to keep it still before it fell to the ground as dead weight.

Finally, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had memorized in the recent times, chewing his lip anxiously and eyes flickering this way and that as he waited. Eventually, the other end picked up.

“Hey, you’re never going to believe this…” the young man started, hand settling on his hip as he looked down at the crime scene before him.

“Hairy… baby…”

The strangest crime scene he'd come across, if he was being honest with himself.

“What do you mean ‘try me?’” Damato sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, not up for a guessing game. “You know what, never mind, just help me deal with this.”

The skin of the robot inflated slightly by the breeze passing through, looking positively ghostly in such a desolate setting. Damato shivered, edging away even further.

“You want me to what?”

“-there…” it hiccupped. “Th-theere-”

“I can't- no, won't do that- that's not in my job description.” The breeze blew at him, whisking the hood of his jacket up and on his head sloppily. “Plus it's still moving and creepy to look at and I'm not carrying it anywhere... Yeah, well, why don't you come on over and do it yourself?”

Pause.

“What? You will- I mean, you are?”

Another pause. His frown deepened the longer he listened.

A sigh. “Yeah, whatever, I'll stay here and help.” He fixed his hood, setting it straight, and crossed an arm over his chest. “But I deserve a raise for this, or at least overtime. Definitely overtime.”

The call ended soon after that, leaving Damato to wait it out in the cold. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and felt the frigid metal of his piercing as he ran his tongue over his chapped lips.

He spared the lump on the ground a glance, letting out a deep and sympathetic sigh. “Hope whoever got you in this mess is worth it.”

A spark jumped into the air when the head twitched again, dying out as it reached its maximum height in the arch, “Hir-roo….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sense some Hamada Bros fluff and identity reveals in the future. ;)
> 
> Oh, and wanted to clarify one thing: the kids. They were initially just a tool to keep the plot moving the direction we wanted it to go for the upcoming chapters, but we soon found our hearts captured by their designs and imperfections- not to mention the possibilities they could provide to the story in general. They each represent a character design from the movie/comics (vanish villains and etc.) and are now a guilty pleasure of ours- who doesn’t love the idea of Hiro interacting with kids relatively his own age? And as sassy criminals to boot! 
> 
> But, yes, this should be interesting. Interesting, indeed.


	14. A Broken Robot and a Fixed Deal

Tadashi was freaking out.

He’d awoken, bleary-eyed and groggy, to the sight of an empty room.

It was Mochi who had actually woke him up, pawing at the blanket bunched up around his calves. He shifted and watched as the fat cat, eyes closed, circled and settled into what it deemed as a satisfactory position in the bend of his knee.

Only then did he let his eyes wander past the divider that separated the room, gaze automatically going to the bed that was pushed against the opposite wall. However, when he spotted the covers untouched and devoid of the small form that was his little brother, Tadashi started.

He shot up like a rocket, Mochi startling with a surprised hiss.

“Hiro?” he called out urgently, dread pooling at the base of his stomach as he jumped out of bed and crossed the room. But there was no answer, only the eerie silence of the night.

There was a flash of a burning building and of a desperate hold on his arm. Pleading eyes and a small whisper of ' _Tadashi, no_ ' blazed a hot trail right through his heart, which left him reeling and needing to grab onto a shelf for support. His left hand hurt.

Tadashi might have gone a little crazy then.

He burst into action, the routine uncomfortably familiar. His body knew what to do even if his mind was somewhat lost, moving with confidence he didn't feel to search the house. Not in their room, sleeping. Not in the garage with his secret project. Not even perched on the kitchen counter, stuffing his face with leftovers.

A quick check revealed that Baymax, case and all, was gone as well.

He rummaged around his drawers, searching for the one thing that could help him. It had been months since he’d touched it, even longer since he’d last used it. If Aunt Cass and Hiro had found it when he was in the hospital, subsequently moving it, then there wouldn’t be anything he could do.

He sighed in relief when he finally found his handheld tracker, hidden underneath a pile of his neatly folded socks.

Then he had to deal with the problem as to where to go from there, this diverging from his usual routine and stopped him short. He couldn't just hop on his moped himself, less Aunt Cass wake up and have a heart attack. Not to mention the state he was in; the worst scenario included him falling asleep behind the wheel and crashing- that is, if he could even figure out how to steer with only one hand.

No, he couldn’t do this by himself.

The possibility of Honey being awake was slim, but he texted her nonetheless. Even when they were arguing, his friends were some of the only people he could properly count on in a situation like this. He desperately hoped she was awake.

In the middle of debating whether to go through with his solo plan (which included padding across the room and biting his nails down to nubs while he worried himself grey), whether or not Honey responded back, his phone vibrated. He thanked whatever deity was out there that he could count on Honey having her phone nearby (Tadashi swore she was attuned to the thing telepathically). A quick reply asking her to message everyone, highlighting that it was an emergency, and he was set.

It should have been surprising that she was immediate in assuring him that she’d get everyone at his house pronto- and at this hour, which was ungodly, but Honey was beyond reliable.

He ended up not needing to change, having fallen asleep in his day clothes. Grabbing a jacket and his shoes he tiptoed down the stairs and snuck out through the side. By the time Wasabi’s (new- when had that happened?) car pulled up, he was ready to search all of San Fransokyo.

Honey Lemon and GoGo came out to meet him while Fred and Wasabi remained seated inside the car.

“Tadashi, oh!” Honey hugged him, nearly squeezing the life out of him. “What happened? Are you okay? Not feeling well? It doesn't matter what- we're here to help!”

“Thanks, Honey,” he said sincerely, rubbing his left arm gently. “I'm fine, but, well, it's just that Hiro's missing- Baymax, too- and it's kinda hard to go after him with this.”

Honey made a sympathetic noise when he inclined his bandaged arm while Gogo barely offered the thing a glance.

GoGo, never one to dilly dally, took the reins. “We'll look for him. You stay here.”

Tadashi felt the frown forming on his face. He crossed his arms across his chest, watching as the short girl took in its passive aggressive demeanor. “What do you mean? I'm coming with you, obviously.”

“Yeah, no. You're staying here. We'll find Hiro.” Gogo turned, dismissing him. Tadashi was mildly offended at being disregarded like that, but pushed it aside. He had Hiro to worry about and he didn’t have time for the pointless arguing.

“Good luck finding him without me,” he called as she made her way to the car.

She turned at his tone and Tadashi brought out his tracker and waved it when he got all of their attention. He tried not to look too smug at their expressions, knowing they'd probably forgotten about his extra measures at keeping tabs on his brother.

Gogo narrowed her eyes, lips pressed tightly together as she eyed him. Tadashi made sure to look as cool and collected as he could, and not like he was unraveling at his very seams with worry over his brother. He brought his shoulders back in that determined fashion he always saw Hiro do when dealing with people three heads taller than him, standing his ground even as his friend continued to eye him critically.

“You're not doing this without me,” he said stubbornly, “and I'll go out by myself if you try.”

“Tadashi,” Honey all but whined, “you're making this so hard. It's dangerous for you to be alone.”

“And it isn't for you?” He challenged.

She didn't have anything to say to that, stepping behind GoGo.

He sighed, feeling guilty but irritated all at once. “Look, I've gone out into gang-infested territory before- this isn't the first time Hiro's snuck out- and if I'd known this was what you guys were going to do, then I wouldn't have called you.” He tried to ignore the hurt expression on Honey and Fred's faces. He’d apologize later. “Don't think you can stop me from going now.”

“He has a point.” Wasabi shrugged helplessly from his seat and Tadashi was relieved that at least one of them agreed with him.

Honey turned to the big man, aghast. “Wasabi! We have to have a unified front!”

“I’m sorry! I can’t deal with this stress and he does have a point and I don’t know what to do!”

Fred piped up from the back seat, “Unified front destroyed! Tadashi’s coming!”

Four separate shushes were directed at the comic nerd and his louder than acceptable exclamation. Fred merely nodded and pretended to zip his mouth shut, lock it and throw away the key.

Wasabi fiddled with some controls. “We should hurry before it gets even later. We don't want to waste time we could be using to look for Hiro.”

Suddenly, GoGo stomped to the passenger seat, slamming the door harder than necessary. One glare had Wasabi’s complaint about her treatment of his new car stifled. A moment passed where no one knew what to do, Honey standing awkwardly between Tadashi and the car.

GoGo sighed, blowing her bangs out of her face, “Get in, Hamada.”

Tadashi smiled at the victory, jumping into the backseat without further ado and squeezing between Honey and Fred.

Fred hugged him with more passion than he'd expected when he buckled in. He unzipped his mouth, “Oh man, it's been too long, dude! Do you know how hard it was to not tell you anything? Really hard. We were the best of bros, separated by a deadly secret- I thought we'd never talk again!”

“Fred, you still haven't told me anything.”

But Fred didn't hear him, too focused on his next words, “Don't worry Tadashi, we'll set it aside in the name of our youngest team member. Nothing will get in between us when the little man needs our help.”

“Well, you're the one with all the answers now, Hamada,” Gogo said as Wasabi turned on the ignition, pulling out a piece of gum from the confines of her jacket and popping it into her mouth. “What do your brotherly instincts say? Which direction?”

Tadashi ignored the girl's sarcastic tone as he looked down at the tracker, quickly getting his bearings, and pointed north.

“Alright. Let's go find your know-it-all brother.”

* * *

“Incoming!”

The call and the wave of talk that followed was loud enough to make Hiro pause in his nightly work of installing a screen to one of the walls of the derby. He was nearly finished, as he had started just as the sun was setting (god, when had he become so nocturnal) and had made good time since.

Thick coils in his hand, the teenager twisted to see what the sudden commotion was about. Eyes widened when they saw the snow-white fabric peeking through the bodies.

Baymax.

Uncaring of the loud thud the coils made as they hit the ground, drawing the momentary attention of quite a few people, Hiro jumped down from the stool and quickly made his way over. He ignored the curious questions asked by the kids who had become his walking shadows in the last forty-eight hours, attention solely on his best friend.

“Give him some space!” Someone yelled when people started convulsing toward the downed robot like a meteor getting sucked into a planet’s gravitational field.

“What happened?” Hiro demanded over the growing commotion, shoving people to the side so to get closer. They parted before him after one look at his face, but no one answered him. Hiro could feel his face contorting into a mask of anger, fist far too ready to start swinging if anyone got in his way, only to stop abruptly when he made it to the center of the mass and saw something that made his blood run cold: a beat up Baymax being gently laid onto a bar seconds after its tabletop was wiped clean with a sweep of large hands, uncaring the mess it made at their feet.

His nursebot was in ruins. The vinyl ripped and dirtied, looking pathetic without air inflating it. Occasionally, Baymax’s head twitched, sparks flying from where wires were cut raggedly and jutting out of the frame.

He spotted a familiar face off to the side, slowly edging away. The broker, the very one he had solicited information from (honestly, did everyone know each other down here?), stopped when Hiro caught his eye, staring at him with fear, surprise, and something else he couldn't name. Though Hiro didn't spend much time on that, instead finding himself in front of the young man, shoulders back and needing someone to blame. “What. _Happened_.”

The man paled under his unrestrained anger, leaning back. “H-hey don't look at me like that- I sure as heck didn't do this.”

Suddenly a presence was behind him and he inched his head to the side, seeing flash of blue color in his peripheral vision. A Fujita, whom he barely recognized as one of the three he had fought weeks prior, was staring at his hands- which were fisted into the front of the broker’s jacket.

Hiro blinked, momentarily surprised to know that he didn't remember getting physical, and let go, backing away. The small Fujita didn't loosen her grip on her parasol nor did that intensely serious look leave her dead eyes.

Damato fixed his jacket, moving himself until he was clear of the robot (and, in respect, Hiro) and stood between the Fujita and a man splattered with freckles- Connor, the ticket man. He set a hand on the other's shoulder, nodding his head when the younger look at him nervously.

“Ahem, well, I found him like this- well, no, I saw it happen-,” Hiro jaw tensed, eyes narrowed at the young man who sat back and watched his friend get torn to pieces, “obviously, I wanted to help, but there were too many-,” air rushed in and out of the teenager’s nose like a boar barely containing the need to charge, “-and that masked man showed up, so it wasn't my fault.”

If possible, Hiro tensed even further. “Yokai? Why would Yokai show up?” There would be- should be no reason for Callaghan to trash Baymax, not on the tight schedule he was on. “No. He wouldn't just- you're lying to save your own skin, aren't you?”

“No, I swear. I'm telling the truth. He showed up with that weird, black mass _thing_ and-”

Hiro snorted. “Unlikely. The probability of Yokai showing up now and anywhere near Baymax, is so low that-”

“It could still happen though-”

“-it can only mean either you're lying or you're delusional-”

“I know what I saw- I'm not going crazy!” The broker glared fiercely at Hiro, face going blotchy in response to the bursting nerve the genius just probed. “Why would I lie about this?”

“I don't know, but I do know that if you don't give me good enough reason I'm gonna-” It was impossible to not notice that agitated shift in the mass at his open ended threat, but Hiro, too engrossed in being upset, didn't care. He'd take them all on if he had to. For Baymax, there was nothing he wouldn't do.

“There was someone with him, okay!” Damato yelled, bending just like any heated metal under stress. “I… don't know who or why, but I saw some of Yama's hired help taking them.”

“Aren't you guys Yama's hired help?” Hiro asked through clenched teeth, eyes trailing across the sea of faces that stiffened under his gaze, even the children.

“Sometimes, yeah.” Damato had gotten small again, slouching as if he wanted the crowd to swallow him whole. He spoke for the group, though, as if he belonged with them- and he probably did, Hiro thought, spineless as he was. “But, we usually don't do stuff like that- more _sensitive_ stuff like-”

“Like assassination.” Hiro saw red momentarily when he thought of a defenseless Tadashi in the hands of these people.

The young man looked away. “Among other things…”

Connor chose then to speak up, looking like a philosopher pondering the question of life itself. “I wonder who it was that Baymax was trying to protect.”

Damato shifted, uncomfortable. “I don't know, some kid.”

Hiro felt his whole body tense, but ordered it to relax not even half a second later. It was best not to even begin to let on the possibility that he was related to this event. He tried not to think about how the possibility of the _kid_ being his younger self was exponentially high or about the even higher chance of someone Hiro knew spotting him.

“It could be no one- someone who has nothing to do with this, but was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Brown eyes lowered to the ground and right as he feigned disinterest. His voice, when he spoke, was steady. “That isn't unusual. Baymax's entire protocol is to help prevent and treat injury- everyone has the potential to be a patient.”

“I don't know… if Yokai showed up, it can't just be someone random or unimportant,” Connor said thoughtfully. When he crossed his arms, the snake tattoos that curled up each of them shifted. “Maybe they're someone who has more to do with that we think.”

The genius did not like where this was going. “Let's not jump to conclusions-”

“Hi- rooo…” A voice suddenly slurred behind him, causing Hiro, among others, to jump in surprise.

The teenager immediately whipped around to see Baymax give a violent twitch. Opticals focused and unfocused in unsynchronized patterns, giving the robot an appearance of grogginess. Hiro didn't hesitate to turn his back to everyone and make his way to the table, back arching as he bent over it and offered a cracked smile. “Hey, buddy. It's good to see you.”

“I-I am he-health-c-care…” Definite damage to the voice modulator. “H…. ro…”

“Yeah, I'm here.” He shooshed the robot, hand automatically coming up and patting the dented head with care. Anger made room for worry and compassion. “Don't you worry, I'll find out who did this and then I'll make you as good as new and you can go back to back to helping people, just-” He swallowed thickly. “Just like you're supposed to.”

“H-Hello, I-I-I am B-Bay-ay-ay-ay.” Hiro jerked back just as Baymax shot up, a grinding coming from his chest. He made to push him back down, only the robot swung his arm and stumbled off the bar and onto his feet. “I-I w-w-wil scan y-you n-n-now. Diag-no-no-si-si-sis comp-plete.”

“Whoa, whoa… keep it together, Baymax.” Hiro tried to grab a hand, missing it as Baymax kept on swinging. “Why don’t you lay do- whoa!” He caught a tool box before it crashed to the floor, ducking when another arm almost got him from the side.

A flock of the surrounding crowd strode forward, but Baymax spun around haphazardly and they backed up as one unit. One of the children tripped, falling onto their butt.

The nursebot drunkenly stepped forward, bending so that when his arm sporadically twitched he unbalanced himself and tumbled to the ground. Hiro grabbed the kid under their armpits and pulled them back before the weight of the robot could crush them.

“You alright?” he asked the small Fujita in his arms. Her grey-blue eyes were impossibly wide as she nodded. “Good- stay here.”

Cautiously, Hiro crouched beside Baymax. “Baymax?”

A white hand was raised in Baymax’s signature gesture, followed by a short pause. “F-Flow-ow-ower… m-man-h-h-hood-d… pubesce-sce-ent...”

Hiro refrained from face palming. “Yeah, up you go.”

Hands came to help him and Hiro only spared a glance to see that Damato had gotten under Baymax for more support (why couldn’t anyone let him hate them and be angry and just leave it at that?). With his help, they got the robot back on the bar top without knocking over too many bottles in the process.

“H-have a loll-lol-lol-i-ipop!” the robot hiccuped, patting Damato like he would Mochi. The young man, much to Hiro’s annoyance, took it in awkward silence.

“Alright, buddy,” he told his friend as he slowly released his grip, ready to charge in if the robot started to tip over. “I'm gonna have to shut you down for a while- just until we get you up and running again.”

Baymax hiccupped, feet tapping against the bar, but made no further comment as Hiro reached past the vinyl and grasped at the chest cavity of the metal frame. He felt around until he could pinpoint where it connected with the port and twisted, disconnecting the entire thing. Baymax went limp and it was only Hiro's fast reflexes that stopped him from toppling over.

“What did you do?”

Hiro didn't spare the kid a glance as he laid down the robot as gently as he could. He could hear people start to inch forward, more confident now the threat of being whacked in the face by a drunk nursebot was gone. “The damage done on him is extensive enough that it'll be easier to work if he isn't activated.”

“Is it bad?” the boy twin asked, barely tall enough to peek over the tabletop.

The genius lifted the vinyl, ducking his head to peer inside. He lips thinned to a tight line. “He's seen better days.”

There was a silence, long enough that it caught Hiro's attention and had him tearing his eyes away from his friend and down. The twin’s sister had joined her brother at some point, taking on the same despondent expression as they looked upon Baymax. Hiro felt his gut clench (he wanted to be angry, but these were kids and it was so much harder to rage when the faces staring at him looked so…sad).

“Hey, it isn't your fault,” he told them, pointedly omitting the fact that the blame could probably be divided and attached to quite a few persons in the room. “Baymax won't stay broken forever. That's the great thing about robots- they can be fixed and remade.”

“Dad said there was some shipment they were collecting,” one of the twins supplied randomly, confusion and mild disappointment coloring her eyes, taking one of Baymax’s deflated hands into hers. “Said they were supposed to pick it up for Yama, but he didn't say anything about hurting anyone.”

Hiro blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Sometimes he forgot that these kids were born to the criminal life, that they had parents- uncles, step brothers, guardians- who went around doing notorious crime. That, though the world labeled them as villains, these children saw none of that, but just someone who cared for them- like Tadashi and Aunt Cass had for him.

Again, his gut twisted, only it was in the realization that he was letting his anger get the best of him. He’d learned years ago that blaming other people wouldn’t lead him anywhere, but here he was doing just that and acting like the jerks he so hated as a kid.

It was that thinking that had him saying, “I'm sure it's a misunderstanding.”

“Hey, what are we going to do about him?” a Fujita with a fan asked, popping out of nowhere and jabbing her fan in the direction of Baymax, effectively breaking the spell he had been cast under.

Hiro jerked before stepping closer to his best friend, edge of the bar digging into his side. He didn't like how a collected few were staring hungrily at the inter-workings of Baymax, obviously noticing the state of the art tech there and how much it was worth on the market, damaged or not. “I’m going to fix him.”

“Yeah, with what?” There was some dissatisfied grumbles among the crowd now that any possibility of having at Baymax's tech was off the table.

“With parts you give me,” Hiro stated with authority he didn't possess, tone obvious. He angled his head towards Ren, the woman unusually silent, and met her inquisitive gaze. “This'll be part of the deal.”

The woman eyed him, as was her way, and Hiro wondered again if she was going to deny him this- double cross him again. He knew he was asking for a lot, adding on and on to the deal they had made, and hadn't even begun to complete his half as of yet. She had asked for information on him in return of her help and he was still reluctant to relinquish it. Surely she would demand retribution or a sort of payment for this, never one to give out handouts freely.

But, in contrast to Hiro's silent doubts, she nodded. “Give him what he needs.”

It wasn't long before an assortment of parts were spread out before him, most with at least a bit of wear. They were reluctantly given at first, though that disappeared once an eye was cast over at Baymax's sad form (it wasn't all that surprising that the nursebot had captured their hearts so quickly- Baymax was just as easy to love as he was to hug). Hiro set to prepare the robot, shifting things around so that better access was available and assigning the kids, who appeared eager in every way, to organize the parts by size.

Then, there was only one more thing to do.

The robot's access port opened without trouble, revealing a perfectly pristine and unbroken chip. It was cool in his fingers, the feeling of its ridges sending a wave of relief coursing through his veins. Even though he hated the thought of his friend being inactive, he couldn’t afford to wrestle with the robot every time he came online.

“What's that?” one of the kids asked, loud and oblivious.

Hiro clutched the thing tight in his hands, unwilling to let anyone see or touch it. He didn't like how it had gone silent in the moment he had opened the port. He spotted Ren and the ticket booth man to his left, peering curiously at the chip in his hand- Hiro tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“It's what makes Baymax, Baymax.” An echo of words spoken in what seemed like so long ago; it was the only explanation he'd allow.

“Like his soul,” Chip-boy stated, pleased with how well his suggestion fit.

Hiro didn't say answer, only rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and deciding that if he wasn't going to break down he needed to keep his mind occupied and get to work. He looked for the biggest opening in the vinyl, and when he found it he didn't hesitate to dig right in, hands flying as he searched for all the possible problems.

There'd been numerous times where he'd updated his Baymax and, although this one was different, he knew every part like it was his own. He clicked a few frames back into place, fixed those that were jammed, and straightened the metal spine as best he could. He cut wires that were too frayed and disposed of parts that were beyond repair (thankfully that only added up to only a cylinder piece of his forearm, a washer that set his coccyx, and two bolts that pinned to place his cerebral cord- nothing irreplaceable).

All the while, Baymax's dull, lifeless eyes stared holes into Hiro.

He did his best to ignore that the several other pairs of eyes following his every move; watching him fix an audio system was one thing, but Baymax was another. Though Hiro didn't snap at them to mind their own business like he usually would have, finding that he was simply tired of speaking and interacting with people in general- the trouble it would've caused, not to mention the resulting argument that would've surely followed, was not worth it.

So, he let them watch.

Let them watch and tried not to despair over the sight of his friend. Tried not think about how everything just looked hopeless, so _broken_. How there was no possible way to-

No, Hiro shook his head, he was not going down that road. Baymax was going to get better, going to be fixed so well that it would be as if he hadn't been anything else than perfect in the first place. Hiro was a genius, a prodigy, and nothing was impossible for him.

And so, with renewed determination, Hiro set to barking orders to whoever was next to him, never tearing his eyes away from his friend, and set to work. He took the parts that were offered to him, nodding at some and rejecting others, and ordered others to lift the robot at a certain angle.

He was an oiled machine with a goal- a purpose, and, without a doubt, he was going to achieve it.

* * *

The ride was short and bumpy, Hiro being jostled around in the back the van. He was more than positive that he'd have a collection of bruises after once again hitting his head against one of the crates, just like he was more than positive whoever was driving was breaking more traffic laws than Gogo could ever dream of.

He never stopped struggling. Thankfully, his legs remained untied, leaving him enough freedom to kick against the crates and van wall- he took extra pleasure in thumping against the thin wall that separate the driver and the storage, especially when one of men driving shotgun opened the small window and snapped at him to stop before he broke his legs. Hiro reserved himself to knocking over crates then, taking in stride that when one fell and cracked open, a landslide of microbots tumbled out; if anything, it fueled his anger and resolution, overcoming the fear for the time being.

Then the rollercoaster ride ended, the van’s velocity coming to an abrupt halt.

He jerked when the back doors bursts open, revealing more thugs (they didn’t look happy at the spill of microbots in the back of their van). When one reached for him he kicked out, only for his foot to be grabbed and pulled. He added carpet burn to his growing list of injuries as he was dragged, his struggling ignored. Then he was manhandled again, draped across someone else's shoulder.

Hiro twisted to get some hint as to where he was, the moonless sky barely giving him any light.

The view of San Fransokyo was amazing, it's lights blazing far, far below him. Beyond that the bay was a dark mass, illuminated by the San Fransokyo Bridge- it looked so small and _insignificant_ , unsettling in how it paralleled his feelings so accurately. Hiro squinted, trying to spot his house in the sea of lights, or even SFIT for that matter, but nothing was distinguishable from this height.

One thing was for sure: the chances of him getting back home were slim.

He shivered from the cold wind and couldn't help the whimper that escaped him. It got even worse when the thug carrying passed a wooden gate, the city disappearing from view entirely as heavy doors were shut and locked after them with reverberating force.

The couple manning them didn't offer him a glance. Hiro couldn't help but stare, wide eyed, at the objects held loosely in their grasp. He had never seen a gun before.

He was just short of hyperventilating at this point (an impressive feat, considering his entire night so far), the looming house where they were heading giving him a horrible feeling.

It was huge and elegant, like any traditional Japanese homes the wealthier citizens had in the better parts in town. The front yard was huge, having a curvy walkway of smooth stones and garden that looked like a jungle. The garden, which looked well-kept and organized- not a leaf out of place- while still retaining that chaotic feel, drew his eye. Patches of spotted lilies took over the garden, placed at every corner and running along the path they took.

More people- servants, by the look of their traditional clothing and submissive postures- were stationed at the door, bowing low before ushering them inside. When they entered the house, Hiro was greeted with such extravagance that he was sure he had stumbled into a palace fit for a noble or an emperor, with its high ceiling raised on tall, wooden columns and shining, dark floorboards.

Hiro took in the million dollar furniture, the elegant chandeliers hanging above him, and the exotic paintings and scrolls draped along the walls. More lily’s decorated the room, but these were bright orange, looking like they trapped miniature fires within their buds. He could see doorways at the far ends of the room, no doubt leading to rooms of similar grandeur.

He was momentarily stunned when he was suddenly tossed onto the ground, no time to collect his feet under him and landing painfully on his stomach.

“Well, well, look who we have here.”

His head snapped up at the voice, immediately recognizing it. His stomach dropped at the sight of the biggest man he'd ever had the bad luck of knowing looming above him.

The last he saw of Yama, the man had been in a cell (granted, Hiro had indirectly put him behind bars, but that was a point he wasn't too keen on mentioning anytime soon). Seeing him now- in a wealthy house, surrounded by henchmen, dressed in a high-end suit and _not_ in jail- was unsettling.

“Hello, _Zero_.”

Unable to speak, Hiro could only stare.

Yama smiled and motioned to his men. Arms came to haul Hiro onto his feet so that he was eye level with the boss’ belly. The gag was removed, though Hiro was sure the taste would linger for days to come.

“It's been awhile since we last met. Tried to run away, did you?”

Even with his gag removed, Hiro couldn't speak, too stunned.

“I hear that you were the one who beat Sumi. I had money on that bet."

Gathering his wits, the boy could do nothing but shake his head furiously. Why did everyone seem to think he had fought against this woman? He’d been going clean for over two months now (he'd been so focused on Tadashi that it had seemed trivial in comparison), so there was no way he’d been anywhere near the fight in general. He wet his lips. “N-no… I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

But Yama pretended not to hear him, instead turning away slightly to inspect an arrangement of flowers, perfectly clipped and settled in an expensive looking case. One of the orange petals was held between two thick fingers.

“It always keeps coming back to you, doesn’t it kid? You’re a downright genius, I hear.” Hiro cringed at that, for once hating the local newspapers for including him in the article concerning the SFIT fire. “You’re making bots that my people can only dream of- but it’s all been going to waste.”

The petal was crushed.

“Now, as you might have figured out, I don't like to lose.” The remains of the flower were wiped onto a towel offered by one of the servants who came skittering forward, immediately retreating when they were no longer of any use. “And I make it my business not to lose.”

Hiro leaned back when the other invaded his personal space, his spine protesting, to get as far away from the man.

“I invest in different kinds of battlebots, my partners always looking for better designs. And a kid like you could be useful, real useful.” Yama grinned maliciously. “How about you work for me and we can put this whole mess behind us, eh boy?”

What kind of world did he live in where a mob boss wanted him- a kid- to work for him?

Thinking about the crates in Yama’s vans, filled to the brim with his microbots, Hiro scowled. The masked man already took those from him, he wasn't going to let anyone else take his work from him. “Not going to happen.”

Yama’s smiled faltered momentarily before lighting back up.

“How about a deal then?” Another thing he wasn’t expecting. His previous experience with Yama didn’t lead him to believe that an actual, civilized conversation was even possible, much less a deal following rejection.

Seeing his curiosity, Yama continued, “We’re both bot fighters here, so why don’t we have a little tournament. The deal is simple: if you win, you’ll be released, but if I win, you work for me.”

Hiro didn’t know why the fat man was offering this chance and was instantly suspicious, but the gambler within was interested. Given any supplies, he could easily make a bot that would destroy any pitted against him, so, no matter the tricks, he’d win.

“Deal.”

For some reason, Yama’s grin grew bigger- gleeful in fact. Hiro’s confidence dwindled at the sight of it, the knot in his stomach returning. “Excellent. Boys, why don't you take our player to the ring?”

Hiro started panicking when the thugs started herding him to one of the dark hallways. “W-What are you doing?”

“They’ll be taking you to the ring. You'll have to wait a while until the fight starts, so might we might as well get you comfortable with it.”

The boy pulled at his captors. “What do you mean? I-I can't- don't have my bot-”

“Oh, you won't be needing one for this fight.”

“What do you-” Like a rubber band snapping into place, the answer came to Hiro. What the man was implying, it was absurd, it was crazy, it was _suicidal_. He dug in his heels, “You can't expect me to- I'm not fighting! That’s not fair! We had a deal and-”

“Stop his whining, will you?” Yama ordered his thugs, who didn’t hesitate to gag Hiro again. “Jeez, I hate kids. Always whining and cheating.”

With no voice, Hiro was left to scream muffled obscenities at the mob boss that would’ve filled a swear jar to its brim if they had gotten past the cloth in his mouth. There wouldn’t be a tournament, he knew, and he was stupid to think that for even a second criminals would play fair. He should have known- should have known that cheaters always cheat because once a cheater, always a cheater.

Everything was rigged and he was on the losing side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update, we know, but look! It's an entire week early! Think of it almost as a sort of apology for those times where the update was more than a little late (as reader ourselves, we understand that month waiting for an update may feel like centuries wasting away). And yes, we know we said there would be some Hamada Bros fluff and a reveal- just wait, it’s coming... though it might not be what you’re thinking.  
> Till next time. ;)


	15. The Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update on time!

 

Of course the first thing Baymax did when he came back online was inquire about Hiro's health.

The action was just so Baymax that Hiro had let out a strangled laugh and hugged the robot on the spot, only minimally aware of the fragility of the last minute patchwork of his vinyl. The nursebot returned the embrace, warm and whole.

Hiro breathed evenly, “It's good to have you back, buddy.”

“I was not aware I left.” The oval head tilted to the side. “Though, if you are referring to the time spent deactivated, then I agree and am equally pleased to be back to care for my patients.”

“Yeah, you've been out of it for-”

“Five hours and thirteen minutes approximately since my scheduled self check up,” the robot told him without missing a beat. “And four hours and forty-seven minutes since an override was undergone and I was deactivated manually.”

He winced. “I'm sorry about that- it was the only way to stop you from freaking out.”

“I forgive you.” It was amazing how such a short phrase could be given so simply and honestly. Hiro felt as if there was more to his apology, going beyond what was outright said, and was glad that, unknowingly, his friend had forgiven him for whatever it was. “Considering the situation, your actions were understandable.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Would now be an appropriate time to continue with your checkup?” he asked. “I have a diagnosis ready and must-”

Hiro wanted to groan, not in any mood to talk about how stressed he was and how he should talk it out. “Maybe now isn't the best time- or place…”

“But it is imperative that-”

He shook his head, rubbing at his temple. “Later, Baymax. Okay?”

There was no blinking of those shutter eyes as they stared at Hiro, fully reminding him that the robot didn't need to blink and was completely artificial, no matter how human he seemed. But rather than pushing forward, Batmax simple said, “I will reschedule to the earliest convenience.”

It was then that the robot turned his attention towards the group surrounding them. The derby had partially emptied out in the time it had taken for Hiro to fix Baymax and it now allowed room for one to breathe without feeling as if they were suffocating. While many of the general criminals had left to God knows where and the majority of the Fujitas retreated to the second floor to settle for the night, the kids remained. They lingered about, unsure on whether to intrude or not.

“Hello,” Baymax greeted, taking small steps toward them and away from Hiro. The rhythm of the vinyl rubbing together was off beat, the uneven patchwork making the sheets covering the robot's inner arms and thighs slide rigidly past one another. “I apologize for the inconvenience I may have made and, for the chance that I did, instilling harm upon any of you. I was not myself.”

“You're back!” the twins exclaimed at once, jumping around the robot and tugging on his hands in excitement. Behind them stood the other three children, whom joined the group hug, though more restrained in their happiness at seeing the nursebot repaired and working again. Then there was a general cheer when lollipops were distributed among them, along with a reminder to brush and floss thoroughly after the treat.

“It's good to see him working and not trashing the place.”

Hiro turned to see Ren, Connor and Damato framing her sides. He was a little surprised- he had thought they had already called it a night and left when he was reconnecting Baymax’s fingers hours ago.

He frowned at her, crossing his arms. “He did not ‘trash the place.’ Almost knocked a few heads, yeah, but it wasn't his fault that his system was jammed.”

“Yeah, but he was still trashed.” Hiro wasn't certain if that was in reference to his friend's previous physical state or tendency to act drunk when this state was achieved. “Have any guesses on who's out to get him? Or the mystery kid?”

Hiro had been studiously dodging this conversation, not at all wanting to even broach the topic in fear of it somehow being unearthed that he was related to the event and the ‘mysterious boy’ that headlined the story. In fact, he was doing quite well in steering around it- _Baymax needs to be fixed_ , he told them whenever the conversation reared it's ugly head, _Baymax’s priority and everything else can wait_ \- and had foolishly deemed it erased from their minds by now. Obviously, it hadn't and he wasn't going to get a break anytime soon.

He didn't answer, instead pretending to have not heard as he watched the kids eagerly unwrap their candy treat.

Ren went on anyway. “Well, we can't just leave things as they are- loose ends tend to trip the people who didn't tie them.”

Damato shoved his hands in his pockets, “They knew the kid- said he cheated them out of some money.”

Baymax toddled over, a line of children following after him like he was a mother and they his ducklings. Hiro paid them no mind as he said, “That could be anyone. Really, you'd have more luck with looking for him in your crowd- what, with how buddy-buddy you are with each other.”

Ren purposefully ignored the frustration-driven snipe on his part, shaking her head, and Hiro felt as if he was fighting a losing battle. “Not anyone from our group. Everybody knows to steer clear of Yama and his gang, that is, unless it's for a job. Even then, no one's stupid enough to cross him.”

“Then it's gotta be someone from a third party,”  Connor concluded, eyes flashing his way as he sent Hiro a look, knowledgable and challenging. “Maybe we should ask you. Aren't you already on bad terms with both Yama and Yokai?”

Hiro felt himself stiffen, feeling as if he had just been threaten though knowing that that wasn't the case. “I haven't talked to anyone else- that includes the kid. I didn't want to bring any civilians into this.”

“This kid’s not just a civilian though, is he?” From the corner of his eye, Hiro could see Baymax lift a hand and offer a lollipop to the freckled man, who, like most people, didn't refuse. “It's either that or big guy here provoked them…”

Despite the urgency he felt to dissuade their suspicions and/or stop the conversation altogether, Hiro felt a spark of injustice at the jab at his friend. “Baymax would never do that. His sole focus is patient satisfaction, so unless one of them stubbed his toe- he would never hurt anyone…” An image of red eyes and a harsh voice saying ‘Baymax, destroy’ ran through his mind, and Hiro swallowed. “Well, not on purpose.”

“No one other than my patient received injury.” Baymax supplied, starting to radiate heat when one of the children announced that they were cold. He looked to Hiro, “I did not perform any of the karate moves available to me on the second chip, as I did not receive any direction to utilize my newfound skill.”

Hiro ignored the confused looks of the others and patted his friend’s arm. “That's okay. No one was expecting you to.”

Ren snorted, walking away from the group to the sidebar nearby. Without a word Connor followed suit, rummaging behind the counter, bringing up glasses. “Not like you could go against Yokai’s sea of misery anyway.”

Something flared in the teenager’s chest. “Don't sell him short. Baymax can take on the microbots a thousand times over.”

“Microbots?”

“Microbots. It's the tech Yokai uses- you know, the black stuff that he controls.” Telling them what they were up against- that wasn't discriminating information, right?

“It's interesting that you know so much about the biggest mystery of San Fransokyo.” Connor spoke with his newly received lollipop in his mouth- voice muffled as if he was speaking to himself, but just loud enough to be concise (as if he wanted everyone to hear). “Yokai shows up out of the blue without any connections or background and no one can find any dirt on him- except you.”

Hiro hesitated.

“Maybe it is time for them to know about your situation.” Baymax looked away from the poured alcohol, probably already having a list of symptoms for alcohol poisoning, and added his two cents. “It is well-known that help from peers and friends may relieve stress and increase the possibility of success. Of course, the amount of disclosure provided does not have to go beyond your comfort level.”

The teenager pursed his lips, eyes squinting, before abruptly sighing, loud and heavy. “Fine, yeah, okay…” He braced himself, feeling the reassuring pressure of Baymax at his back. “So, you're right- I know… a little about Yokai.”

Unlike the other two, who masked their interest, Damato physically perked up. Hiro wished he had something to fiddle with, not liking the undivided attention.

“How much?”

“Well, I, uh, knew him before he was known as Yokai.” He plowed through, trying to get through the moment as fast as he could. “I'm not going to say who- it was another time, I guess you could say- but I'll just leave it at that. One moment he was someone I thought I could trust and then the next- well, you know. So, I planned to talk some sense- to talk him out of this… _phase_ he's in- and, well, I expected him to listen, not go off the deep end and go to Yama. It's… unlike him- going this far and to these measures. Something changed and I'm still trying to figure out what- I mean, honestly, before this he would have never bothered with any of you- uh, no offense.”

“Offense taken,” Ren said, taking a swing of her drink.

“And the kid?” Connor pressed, eyes intense.

Hiro tried to be as nonchalant as he possibly could. “Who do you think created the tech he's using?”

“A kid? Making tech like that?” Ren didn't appear very convinced. “That's gotta be-”

“He's a genius, like you.” Connor stated, quick to the plate. “Could probably fix this robot of yours just as quick, eh? How long was it?” He looked about even though the question was obviously rhetorical. “Five hours?”

“Four hours and forty-seven minutes.” Baymax corrected.

Connor didn't miss a beat. “I wonder what the odds are of two genius’ getting wrapped up in this hellish mess?”

“Is it your brother?” Chip-boy asked from under the nursebot’s arm. “Is that why you don't wanna tell us?”

Ren looked intrigued, raising a thin eyebrow as she angled her head. “Brother?”

It was a split second idea, and decision, that had him saying, “Yeah, okay, he is- my brother. He's my brother and I didn't want to get him more involved than he already was.” He didn't even have to lie on that last part. “Can you blame me?”

None of them could deny his honest expression. “No, I guess not.”

“Though, it doesn't really matter,” Hiro muttered under his breath, turning away slightly to stare at Baymax’s elbow. “Calla-Yokai is making things worse everyday.”

A hand, familiar and soothing, patted him on the head. “There, there. Do not be deterred by such thoughts. It is better to focus on the positive aspects of one's life.” Baymax said in that calming tone of his and the genius felt his mood shift in accordance. “There is the general safety of your friends, your health,” a uncharacterised pause, “and the living status of your brother, Ta-”

“Baymax,” Hiro said, head cracking painfully when he whipped to look the nursebot in the eye, “patient confidentiality.”

“Your want of secrecy is understood and respected. In accordance to your discomfort, I will change the subject,” Baymax said and Hiro wanted to facepalm because, _honestly_ , the robot had no tact. But his friend was determined as he, finger poised, stepped in front of him and drew the others’ attention (and kept it). “In an effort to compile data on recent events concerning my forced deactivation, it has come to my understanding that I have yet to collect the information on who is responsible for finding me.”

Connor clapped a hand on the broker’s shoulder with a grin, supposedly distracted (though Hiro wasn't fooled for an instant). “That's all Damato- found you and everything.”

Said young man looked as if he'd rather face Yokai than receive the recognition, a sour expression on his face.

“Thank you for delivering me from danger. It is graciously appreciated and will not be forgotten.” Damato could do nothing as Baymax wrapped him in a snug hug, pressing the young man into his pudgy belly. He looked out of his comfort zone, but offered a small, uncomfortable smile when the nursebot peered down at him.

“I want another hug!” one of the twins yelled (or maybe it was both), jumping forward. Baymax, always compliant, turned from one person to another and gave out his free hugs. Soon enough, the rest of the kids joined in.

Hiro smiled fondly, shaking his head in amusement and awe over the ease in which people slipped under the spell of Baymax's kindness; he was going to miss him when he returned him back home.

“Well,” Ren said as she stretched and straightened out her jacket (was that two lollipops in her front pocket?). “Not that I don't just love this gooey hug fest, but I better start waking a few of the girls.”

“What? Why?” Hiro was beyond alarmed.

“‘Cause we got a new job,” She explained simply, pausing when she caught his bewildered look. “Unless you want that brother of yours to continue rooming with Yama?”

Hiro blinked rapidly. “I-I didn't… you're helping me?”

“Of course. Just because you clam up all the time and exist just to annoy me, doesn't mean we still don't have a deal.” Her lips quirked. “Even if you're a little slow with your part.”

“Not to mention that half of what you say is entirely useless or indecipherable.” Connor nudged the young broker, clicking his tongue; the younger elicited a slight complaint of, “What? You can't say you understand everything he says- it's as scrambled as Aji’s brains.”

“Perhaps this Aji has suffered from brain trauma.” Baymax’s stomach jiggled when one of the twins pushed the other into it (Hiro could spot the muted sibling squabble from a mile away). “I am fully equipped to diagnose such an injury and…” His voice faded into the background of the children's chatter- the only ones appearing to listen being Connor and Chip-boy.

“I appreciate the help- but won't Yama get mad at you?” Hiro almost made a face at his words and how childish they sounded.

Ren outright laughed at him, “Oh, he'll get more than mad, I'm sure.”

“And you're okay with that?” This was a lot for only knowing each other for the short amount of time they had- deal or no deal. She was proposing to blatantly go against Yama, her boss and benefactor, and take on all the consequences. A part of him was suspicious because there had to be a catch- there was always a catch.

But she merely shrugged her sharp shoulders and bared her teeth in an almost grin-snarl. “Yama's been getting a little too comfy in bossing me around- he forgets who's in charge of my girls. And as much as you're a pain, Yama’s worse. Besides, I don't see you coming up with anything better.”

“Unless,” Damato drawled, seemingly bored now that they weren't talking about Yokai or potential information to sell anymore- and when had he gotten a lollipop, too? “You already have one.”

Hiro watched as the kids, no longer distracted by the conversation, ran about Baymax, evading each other's grasp in a game of tag. Watched as the mini Fujita rolled around knife boy, pressing her knee to the back of his, and brought him down, tapping his shoulder with a victorious grin; watched as the boy palmed the ground in a back bend and easily pushed himself back into a standing position, pouting when the others started running from him.

“Actually, I just might.”

* * *

 

When the device in Tadashi's hand directed them to take another left Gogo got quiet. It wasn't like she had been talking up a storm (that was more Fred and Honey’s forte), but it was something all of them noticed; she clammed up and started grinding her gum so much that Tadashi was sure it had lost its flavor half an hour before.

They came at another stop light and Tadashi leaned forward in his seat, “When you get to the underpass-”

“Turn left.”

“Yeah, turn-” The robotics engineer paused, turning with the rest of them to look at the girl. “How do you know that?”

GoGo didn't answer, nor did she bother to look at the tracker in his hands, only pointing down the road. “After that, just keep going until you hit the fork in the road, then pull over. It's easier if we go on foot from there.”

Honey shifted awkwardly beside Tadashi. “Uh, GoGo?”

“Trust me,” she said quietly before snapping her fingers impatiently at Wasabi, startling him, “What are you doing- it's been green for ages. Drive!”

Wasabi did, following her directions to a point- so accurate were they that Tadashi gave up speaking them aloud halfway through. And when they indeed reached a fork in the road he pulled over, setting the emergency break with a loud _crank_. Gogo, not in any mood to wait, was unbuckled and out of the car in two seconds flat.

“He's in there,” she told them when they shambled out after her, huddling to protect themselves against the cold wind.

First glancing down at the tracker to see if it agreed with her words (it did), Tadashi followed the direction of her finger to see the road narrow as it climbed the hill that was to their right. His eyes traced the swerving road all the way to the top, where a large compound was perched.

He'd seen it before on the metro rail, but hadn't the slightest clue who lived there. Probably someone rich, he supposed.

“Uh-oh…” Tadashi had never heard Fred sound so discouraged, which could only spell bad news.

Tadashi stared at the high hill looming before him, hopelessness building in his chest. It looked as if they would (theoretically) need an army to get into the building and they were only five- one being half useless.

Except that was where his brother was.

Honey was the one who finally got the courage to ask what was on his mind, “Who…”

Gogo nodded to Fred, who took his cue, “Kobe Hill. Headquarters for San Fransokyo's baddest of the bad. It's where the head of the crime circle lives- usually, the only way to get that title is through blood…”

Wasabi looked as if he was about to faint. “Please tell me this isn't…”

“Yeaup,” Gogo nodded, unenthusiastic as she brought a hand up in a reveal gesture. “The one and only… Yama.”

Tadashi felt every sap of energy leave his body. “Oh no…”

* * *

 

Being a genius had plenty of perks.

The prestige, the recognition, and the awards- all things that made Hiro enjoy his exceeding intelligence and the astonishing feats it could accomplish. The beaming pride in his aunt's eyes and the feel of his brother tussling his hair with a simple word of gratification, worthwhile in the warmth it gave him. The understanding that he was special and unique out of billions of people worldwide.

He loved the attention- how could he not? At such a young age, there was nothing better than being praised and told he was amazing- the best, even. He inflated and floated high above the clouds whenever his intelligence was acknowledged and applauded.

Of course, with all these perks there were also downsides.

Bullies being one.

Ever since the tender age of seven, when he had first started getting bored in classes and skipping grades, bullies had been a problem. They were kids who saw his eagerness in class as demeaning to them and the ease in which he understood insulting; they were kids who sneered at Hiro behind teachers’ backs and who shouldered him in the hallways- never looking back when he stumbled to his knees and dropped all his books onto the floor; they were kids who went out of their way to corner him after school when no one was around and slam him against lockers and laugh when he cried out; they were kids who had no qualms about kicking him when he was down.

But Tadashi would show up then, just in the knick of time. Always when Hiro needed him, stopping the oncoming punch right in its tracks before it could mar his face- putting an end to the fight before it began. He was a constant presence- the guardian angel he was lucky enough to call his big brother.

Though, sooner or later, Hiro found that he didn't actually like the idea of being weak. He didn’t like being treated less than what he knew he was just because those people lacked it. And he especially didn't like the horrible things people said about his older brother, knowing it would get him riled up. He didn't like it and had decided to finally do something about it.

He had brought the fight to them.

It had begun the days when he would come home with a bruising cheek and blame it on a science project gone wrong- when he would take an extra few minutes in the bathroom to wipe off all traces of blood from his nose or fix his rumpled shirt before he went out to meet Tadashi in the parking lot. And despite the beatings he received and the scoldings to be more careful, it provided some sort of satisfaction that the other kids usually looked just as bad.

Of course, eventually his brother caught wind of it, effectively putting a stop to it with a yank of his ear and a threat to tell their aunt. But it was already too late, Hiro had gotten a taste and wasn't afraid to take those risks anymore.

Bot fighting was a lot like those fights: his opponents were always bigger and nastier, looking down on him like it was their job. But still unsuspecting of his ferocity and willingness to play dirty, it was simply too easy to use that against them. He would enter it quiet yet determined and leave it with a swagger that could take on the world. A sure win.

This fight was nothing like that.

As soon as Hiro was thrusted into the ring, it was blatantly obvious that there would be nothing he, or his intelligence, could do to get him out. There would be no quick thinking or aces up his sleeve or last minute schemes. Only him and his fear shot mind against a machine designed to destroy and kill.

And “killing machine” was an apt description to give the bot known as Little Yama- though it wasn't so little anymore- as it stomped into the ring after him, with its (newer) sleek outer shell and glowing red eyes. Even more so fitting when it unfurled its automated saw and came within an inch of Hiro's leg.

The rowdy cheer when the robot swiped again, almost leaving him handless, was discerning in its likeness to his bullies’ enthusiasm for his misery.

Hiro dodged the saw again, slamming into the chained fence that jingled, flexible yet unmoving no matter how hard he shook it. His breathing was coming in gasps and he didn't think his heart could beat any faster. And he was afraid, so very afraid.

The yelling around him didn't help either, rough voices demanding a better show.

He had been put into a fighting ring with a killing machine, dinner entertainment for the men and women encircling his current prison, and they thought it was lacking? What a bunch of psychos.

And psychos they were, casually dining on gourmet meals as if this was a normal night. In between side steps and barrel rolls to avoid the oncoming danger, he spotted men in impeccable suits and women in elegant dresses, some even modeling extravagant kimonos; the whole thing looked like a delegates meeting, but with the mood of a monster truck rally.

Money exchanged hands the longer he lasted (ten minutes by the timer on the far wall), some betters yelling for him to ‘just quit already.’ Hiro chose to ignore them, sprinting to the opposite corner of the ring as Little Yama did a clumsy turnabout before it crashed into the fence. He spotted a thug he vaguely remembered managing a large controller, his face in the shadows just like it had been all those nights ago hiding behind Yama. He vaguely wondered where Yama was as he caught his breath- probably good and rich to watch him be bludgeoned into pulp.

“Last round for bets,” a woman called over all the commotion, priming her hair as if there wasn’t a fourteen year old boy, dirty and banged up, in the ring before her. “Final round starts in ten, nine, eight, seven, six…”

At her words, the crowd started counting down. When they reached to zero, Little Yama’s other hand folded back, a second saw joining the first. Hiro was left standing in front of a dual wielding, rampaging robot.

Was the world trying to have him die a painful death? The overkill of it all was ridiculous. “Oh, come on!”

No one heard him as the crowd drowned out his words in its sudden uproar.

He slipped while backing away, falling hard enough to leave a bruise on his hip, just in time for the saw to ravage the fence where his neck had been; sparks flew when the second one came down to his right and he covered his face, screaming.

After a tug or two the bot managed to free its saw from the fence, leaving it ravaged. It stumbled back just as a hissing sound reached Hiro’s ears.

Then there was an explosion- multiple actually- and milky smoke rose up like mushroom clouds all around the arena. The audience's cheering turned into surprised yells, all of them lost in the clouds as it became difficult to see what was two feet in front of him. There was a crash or two, some utensils flying into the ring, followed by more calls.

A screech brought Hiro back to the robot, saw waving widely as it stumbled towards him. He pressed himself as close to the fence as he could, fingers turning white where he clung to it, and involuntarily closed his eyes.

But the blow never came.

Hiro peeked, confused at the lack of decapitation. The robot toppled forward and fell at his feet, a knife imbedded into its neck. Hiro stared at the bot who had its face planted into the ground, then at the boy who had suddenly materialized behind it.

Hiro gawked, his mouth refusing to shut close. He looked between the boy and the robot, and then back again. Disbelief and a stroke of confusion colored his mind, hooked as it was in the that moment.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" the boy asked, as if they weren't standing in a bot fighting ring somewhere on Kobe Hill and he hadn't just incapacitated one of the meanest looking bots Hiro had ever seen. The boy stepped forward and ripped his knife out of the bot’s neck; he was just as skinny as Hiro, if not a little taller- but what did size matter when he was handling that knife with such a practiced hand. "Because the smoke isn't going to last forever."

Hiro couldn't do anything besides gape like a fish.

Fortunately, the other boy didn't find a response necessary. Without waiting a moment longer, he stepped forward and grabbed Hiro’s wrist, pulling him along with an urgent, “Let's go!”

Hiro couldn't resist, the kid’s grip was like steel, and was pulled to a mangled opening in the chain fence (when had that happened?). They dived into the smoke, Hiro jerking away from every rough voice and crash that sounded even remotely near him. He stumbled over someone's dinner, half-dragged before he got his footing back.

Everything was happening too fast.

“Hey,” he gasped out, his whole focus on trying to keep up (there was a reason he'd never enjoyed gym). Catching up to Baymax had nothing on this. "Where... are we… going?"

"We're busting out." That wasn't the answer Hiro was looking for, but he didn't have any breath to argue. The boy continued on, breath coming in even puffs, "You know, I couldn't believe it when Sensei said I could come- I'm never allowed to come to Yama's dinner parties. Sensei says that they're sadistic or something and that even he doesn't want to go sometimes, but he's gotta cause it's his duty.”

Hiro was sure that he was missing the relevance of everything this boy was saying.

“Well, who… are you? Have we-?”

“Oh, no,” the other laughed, jumping over a knocked down chair as Hiro quickly sidestepped it with significantly less grace. “We've never met before.”

He frowned, “Then why-”

“Oh, hey, look! I recognize this hallway!” the boy declared brightly, turning so abruptly that Hiro slipped and nearly skidded into a wall. “We need to go this way.”

From there the boy slowed his pace, giving Hiro the opportunity to gather his breath and his thoughts as they made their way inside one of the many buildings that made up the compound. They passed servants that looked less like mercenaries and more like hired help. Hiro was confused when they all openly ignored him, hurrying by without making eye contact.

What was going on?

When they had to duck into an empty room that housed hundreds of photos, all featuring the smug face of San Fransokyo's big boss, Hiro felt the need to speak again, “Hey, uh, thanks for helping me- you know, getting me out of there and stuff. ‘Cause, like, honestly, I don't even know you and I'm still not completely sure why-”

"Are you kidding? This is the most fun I've had in weeks!" Hiro was starting to doubt this kid's sanity. "My name's Taka, by the way."

"Hiro," he said, though he doubted the boy had heard him for at that moment a loud gong rung through the air. “What was that?”

The taller boy- Taka, inched the door open a crack, eyes suddenly shifty. “Uh-oh, I think that was the alarm.”

“The alarm?” Hiro whispered loudly, elbowing the other slightly to move so he could peek out into the hallway. “I thought you said we had until the smoke cleared!”

The sight on the other side of the door wasn't encouraging, pairs of men strutting to and fro with an air of seriousness. All of them were carrying some sort of weapon, causing the genius’s stomach to flip.

“That's weird. It shouldn't have faded yet.” Taka pondered over their predicament before inclining to the way they came. They backtracked, going farther down the hallway before entering another darkened room, which in turn led to another. Hiro was relieved when the alarm stopped, leaving them mostly in silence with only the muffled voices of the house’s other inhabitant however far away.

Taka pulled open the sliding door of the second living room they passed through, peeking in before motioning Hiro forward. "Clear." Without waiting, he slipped through, keeping low. Hiro followed him into the dark room, keeping close to the furniture.

Hiro almost tripped when Taka abruptly turned towards him, scrutinizing him in the low light. "Do you have a brother?"

"What? Yeah, I do, but I don't think this is the time for-” Hiro blinked, the other's words catching up to him. “How... do you know that?"

"You look like him. Like really, _really_ look like him.” The boy pursed his lips, tilting his head every which way to better see Hiro. The shorter boy shifted, uncomfortable with the staring, as if he was on display, and wanting it to end. “You know, you guys could be, like, twins… cause wow, you're like identical.”

“You've met my brother?” Hiro ignored the other's babble, because in what situation- in what world?- would Tadashi know this crazy boy?

“Yeah, he's been hanging around our headquarters- you know that derby downtown, yeah? Anyway, he fixed the lighting and sound system like two days ago- works great now.” Taka grinned and started walking once again, jabbing a thumb at himself as he continued, “I helped. Though he did, like, all the work- he's super smart. Said you were smarter though. That true?”

Hiro didn't answer.

What was Tadashi’s tie to this boy? And how did it connect him to the people who had attacked him?

He didn't have a chance to ask because at that moment what sounded like a barricade of footsteps reached their ears, closer than they had been seconds ago. Taka slapped a hand over his mouth (was everyone going to muzzle him tonight?), a finger on his own lips, and pulled him closer to the ground.

The hallway lights were turned on, the silhouettes of men illuminated on the paper walls. There was talk about ‘surrounding the perimeter’ and ‘smoking them out,’ and it took everything in Hiro not to make a noise and remain still. It was difficult to stifle that instinct to just run, but it helped immensely to be forcefully anchored there by Taka. Though he tried not to notice how the other boy's hands trembled ever so slightly, telling of his own fear.

Soon, their patience was rewarded and the men left.

“We'll have to cut through instead of going around.” If not for Taka’s lips moving, Hiro wouldn't even have thought that the boy had spoken at all. He nodded when Taka drew away, creeping after him to the far wall. It was slow progress and their forms threw weird shadows against the walls, but eventually they found a room with a door that opened to the outside world.

The cold air sent chills down Hiro’s spine, clouds having gathered as the night progressed. If it started raining, he decided then and there, he would officially label this as the worst night of his life (currently second to the night of the fire).

The center courtyard was an exact replica of the one he'd seen at the San Fransokyo Gardens; the definition of tranquility, it was so perfect that he was hesitant to even step on the grass. Like he'd noticed when first coming to the mansion, everything was trimmed and cared for so immaculately, some of the brushes even trimmed into fantastical shapes. In the center was a small waterfall that poured into a clear pond, decorated with perfectly chiseled stones and- what a surprise- more lilies.

It was almost calming, with the sound of the running water and crickets replacing the voices of strangers out for him. Hiro hated Yama, but the fat man had taste.

Hiro tore his eyes from the miniature bamboo stalks to his right, spying Taka a good distance ahead of him, already motioning for him to follow through the courtyard. He froze at the edge of the outer hallway, keeping under its roof and protection.

The boy waved again, his face insistent. “C’mon! What are you waiting for?”

Hiro motioned uselessly at the hallway- the _outside_ hallway, with its _glass_ side doors that were blatantly _open_. “Someone’s going to see us!” And they would because it was a clear sight from the main house, cutting through the inner courtyard.

What kind of person wanted something so _unnecessary_?

“No, they won't.”

“Yes, they will!”

Taka threw up his hands. “This is the quickest way to the back. Don't be a sissy!”

“I'm not a-”

A yell made them both jump, someone spotting them from across the inner courtyard. Hiro bolted, reaching Taka in record time. They ran to the back of the compound, Taka practically pushing Hiro through a random door of another building.

They ended up stumbling into another darkened room, laying in silence as a platoon of men rushed by.

“I told you they were going to see us!” Hiro vehemently whispered once the footsteps receded.

“They only saw us because you-” the boy stopped and Hiro was instantly turning, ready to take on whoever had snuck up on them with fists curled and feet shifting into whichever karate stance he could remember- only to freeze when he got a good look at what had startled his rescuer into silence.

They were in a room filled with battle bots. A small army of them, ranging in size, color, and structure, but still towering over the boys by at least a foot. They stood shoulder to shoulder, lining the dark room and hanging from the walls. All held the same mean expression, dead gaze centered toward the door and the two boys standing there.

“Holy sh-” This time it was Hiro clamping his hand over Taka’s mouth, silencing him; they didn't know who would walk by and they couldn't risk being heard and discovered. Although, if he was being perfectly honest, he was more than likely sharing the same dumbstruck expression.

Hiro didn't think any one of them had the same designer, every one of them looking sleek, unique and expensive. It was the jackpot of battlebots- a bot fighter’s ultimate dream.

And Yama had it in his house.

A genius, if not vindictive, idea started forming.

“I know how we can get them off our trail.” Hiro made his way to the biggest of the bunch, a hulking bot with titanium plating that looked like it needed a tank to take it down and a second one to make sure it stayed down. Searching the back, he felt around before finding a small plate just barely within his reach. He motioned to Taka, who silently watched him with interest. “Give me a hand, will you?”

After a short struggle that ended with Taka blatantly jabbing his knife into a crease and prying the plate off, Hiro had access to the bots internal wiring and controls. He offset the pulse modulator with a few tweaks, pulling out one or two wires for good measure.

He didn't want to break the robot, just give it new instructions. He wanted the thing to work and show it's worth- every, single cent of it. And he wanted it to destroy every other machine of Yama’s, whether it was bought or stolen.

See how the big man liked being in a ring with a deadly machine, Hiro thought maliciously with a grin.

There were more footsteps running past their hideout, providing an excellent reminder of the limited time they had. Hiro turned to Taka, hand hovering over the manual switch. “When I turn this on, we get the heck out of here. Got it?”

Taka nodded, backing away towards a bright red bot with samurai-style armor.

With an uneventful flip, Hiro activated the bot, immediately bolting with Taka hot on his heels. He heard the robot hum as it powered on, the scraping of metal as it moved, and the loud _thump_ as it took its first steps. Hiro quickened his pace, his only goal in getting a large enough distance between them and it before its targeting system came online.

By the time they found the back door, Taka pulling it back just enough to slip through, there was the screaming of a saw already hacking through metal bodies.

It was a straight path from there. Taka led them out the final building and through the back of the compound until they came up to the outer gate. Spotting the security box next to the door that separated them from freedom, Taka flipped his knife and twisted its end. He inserted it into the complementary access port Hiro would've never guessed was there.

“Is that-?”

“Yep. Cool, right?” One beep and the door was swinging open. Hiro, needing no other invitation to escape the house of his nightmares, didn't wait for the boy as he ran through. The only thing that posed a problem was the steepness of the hill and whether or not they'd twist an ankle. The damp streets of San Fransokyo’s lower district had never looked more beautiful and Hiro nearly cried when the sight crept closer.

When they finally stopped running, his legs were jelly and his lungs were about to burst, but he'd never felt more alive. Through his uneven breathing, he managed a smile at Taka, who said, “Escaped from Kobe Hill- that's one for the books.”

Hiro had to laugh at the lame attempt at a joke. After what he'd just been through, a laugh was what he needed to lessen the weight on his shoulders.

“Hey, can you do something for me?” Taka asked, dusting of his pants.

Now that he wasn’t being chased and targeted by metal monsters, he could physically feel his energy start leaving him. “Depends on what it is.”

“Can you hold on to this for me?”

Hiro stared at the knife offered to him, more focused on still catching his breath than at the boy next to him. “Why?”

Taka jerked his thumb in the direction of the house they'd just escaped from. “They'll be checking everyone and I can't have anything discriminating on me.”

Aunt Cass would throw a fit if she saw him with the knife. She was fine with his handling of power tools (always careful and Tadashi nearby), but weapons… he'd be grounded until he was sixty-three, no question about it.

He was already nodding his head.

“Uh, yeah… sure.” Hiro took hold of the knife uncertainty, following the gesture the other mimed and folding it before tucking it in his pocket. Pulling his shirt and jacket to cover the weapon further he paused, head snapping up when something clicked in his brain. “Wait. You're going back there? After all we did to get out?”

Shoulders came up and down carelessly in a shrug. “Well, yeah, I have to. Sensei’s still there and, I mean, I was invited to the dinner.” Bright teeth flashed in a good-natured grin. “I hear the dessert’s gonna be killer.”

“I can't believe that. It's Yama! Wait, this _is_ Yama’s dinner we're talking about, right? Yama- big, stupid, acts like he belongs in preschool, that Yama?” The whole concept felt like it was from the discarded plot of a bad drama (not that he watched that kind of stuff, cause he totally didn't).

Taka whistled. “I knew I liked you.” He clapped Hiro on the back, a full-fledged smile on his lips. “This wasn't so bad and you weren't totally useless. Your trash talk needs some work, but that's nothing we can't fix.”

“Thanks, I guess...?” His lack of socializing with anyone besides Tadashi and his friends had him struggling to express his gratitude. He scratched the back of his neck, unsure. “Like I said, uh, thanks for getting me out of there. I don't know why you did, but I'm glad you did.”

“Nah, it's your brother who you should be thanking.” The boy punched Hiro's arm, oblivious to the hand that came up to rub it in response. “He's the one who got Ren to call in the favors- a lot of people owe her, you know- even Sensei, which is way impressive.”

Eyebrows furrowed, confused. Who the heck was Ren? And how did Tadashi even manage to make such connections?

“Yeaup, well, I should go before they notice I'm gone,” the boy continued before Hiro could begin to ask a question and nodded toward the empty streets, straight faced. “Think you can make it home okay? Kids your age shouldn't be walking home alone, you know what I'm saying?”

And just like that, all his gratitude and questions vanished. “Yeah,” Hiro deadpanned, turning away, “enjoy your dessert.”

Taka laughed, lightly punching his shoulder again. “Kidding! But seriously, are you fine walking home alone?”

Hiro had never bothered with kids his age, but he was starting to like this boy (teasing aside). It was hard not to, with his smiling and cheerful attitude reminding him of Fred. That and the fact that Hiro didn't meet a lot of people who could take down a battle bot and escape from a mob boss’ home all in one night, so he supposed Taka was pretty cool.

“I'll be fine,” he said and, taking a chance, tapped the other's arm with his fist.

The boy's smile widened, “Okay, but if you change your mind, some friends of mine’ll come by in case you want a ride home.” There was another short laugh and a little wave, then he was turning on his heel and jogging up the steep slope.

Hiro watched him until he disappeared in the underbrush.

 _Wait_ , he stopped mid turn, _friends_?

Just as he was trying to orient himself in reference to his surroundings, pondering which direction he should start walking in order to make his way home, he heard yelling.

Hyped up as was from the night he had had, Hiro violently twitched and made to run. It was only because of the cursory glance he happened to give behind him that he stopped just short of bolting into the darkness without ever looking back. It was because of what caught his eye.

A familiar baseball cap.

“Hiro!” His name was tightly wrapped in a mixture of worry and relief, echoed by a figure that followed close behind. “Hiro!”

The genius looked incredulously on as his brother ran up to him, sweeping him up in bone crushing hug that chased away the cold. Skinny arms automatically reciprocated the action, hands curling awkwardly around his brother's elbows. “Tadashi?”

* * *

 

As expected, Tadashi ran to his brother like a protective mother hen, clucking all the way. “Hiro! Are you alright?”

Too bad Honey wasn't there- they had split up to cover more ground around the hill, with her, Wasabi, and Fred starting from the other side- for surely this would have been a great and touching moment to catch on camera. Not that Gogo would say that out loud.

Once the older Hamada had his full on hugs, Gogo took the time to eye his brother. The kid looked like he'd run a marathon, red in the face and sweat soaking into the collar of his shirt. The longer she looked the more she believed it was marathon through a forest, taking into account the dirt and grass that stained his pants and shoes.

Hiro blinked owlishly at them. “W-What are you guys doing here?”

“What are we doing here? What are _you_ doing here? I wake up and you're gone!” Tadashi admonished, smacking the kid once, “Knucklehead!”

“Ow!” Hiro shied away, cringing more than he should for a small punch.

Immediately there was apologies flowing from the older Hamada’s mouth. Then there was an excessive fluttering of hands, checking for more injuries and wiping at the boy's cheeks. Then even more hugs.

“What happened to you? You're all banged up. Hiro, who did this? Who did this to you?” Tadashi’s voice lowered, taking on a darker edge. Fierce eyes, shadowed further by the cap wore, glared at their surroundings as Tadashi swiveled his head around, challenging as ever Gogo saw him. Never did he let go of Hiro.

Hiro slapped his brother's hands away, making halfhearted complaints about the other's fussy behavior- though, Gogo saw, didn't pull away from the comfort of Tadashi’s side. “I had a little run-in with Yama, that’s it.”

The name _shouldn't_ have meant anything to Tadashi, but GoGo saw that it _did_ (not that they told him much to go by). “Hiro, I thought you were done with bot fighting?”

“I am!”

“Then what were you doing with them now, huh?” Now that the older Hamada was no longer going crazy with worry there was room for anger and frustration.

“Woah, woah, woah. Don't go and put the blame on me! I didn't wake up this morning going, ‘Hmm, you know what I want to do today? Get _kidnapped_ by stupid mobsters that can't drop a grudge.’ None of this was my fault!” Gogo felt that this was an old argument, going by how quick the two had gotten from teary reunion to testy arguing.

Tadashi choked on his own spit. “What? Kidnapped? Hiro, wh- how did you- kidnapped?”

Just like a pinching a flame, Hiro’s misdirected fury sizzled out as the boy pressed himself closer to his brother's side. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

Gogo did her best not to flinch at the unadulterated hurt- pain, fury, worry, relief- in Tadashi's eyes. Only, she realized something.

“Excuse me?” She stopped their little reunion faster than she could run a red light, almost choking on her gum. “Are you two implying that you _know_ Yama?”

“I beat him in bot a fight once,” was the pathetic excuse she was given and they’d better hope they got to Honey fast enough because she was going to-

“Hey!” The sound of skates reached her ears and she wanted to throw a fit. Out of the entire world, she was the one that had to be caught out in the open with two damsels (and that was what they were- whimpering, emotionally compromised damsels).

Three women, two of which she (and Tadashi, though he hadn't necessarily been conscious during their attack on the hospital for it to count) was already acquainted with, appeared out of nowhere, a splash of color popping out from the dark streets.

“You!” the tall one snarled, zeroing in on GoGo. “We got up in the middle of the night just to help _you_?”

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me.” GoGo started hauling the two brothers back towards the car, already knowing everything was going to get ugly fast. The tall Fujita was already skating towards them, the other two not far behind. “We're leaving. _Now._ ”

“GoGo,” Tadashi asked, “who are they?” He sounded more confused than worried, letting her pull him back while keeping Hiro hidden behind him.

“No one who likes me. Now, c’mon!”

It took the sight of a metal ball spinning in the air for the robotics engineer to start running, pushing his brother in front of him. And even though the kid looked to be on his last mile, he was putting his all to keep up- though it was all for naught when Tadashi scooped him up in his arms and extended his stride to catch up with the Korean girl.

“Hey, come back here!” the lanky one, fan trailing behind her, called out. “We got a job to do!”

They were blocked the way they came, so the only option was to continue going around the hill; that kind of run was a piece of cake for GoGo, but she wasn't sure about the two boys behind her, not with Tadashi carrying the other. Maybe, if luck was on their side, Honey, Fred, and Wasabi would have already gone back to the car and they could make their escape quick.

“They're catching up,” Hiro warned, giving an update on the women chasing them from over Tadashi's shoulder, “and they look really angry…”

Gogo spared him a glance, noting how he gripped his brother like a monkey onto a tree with a jaguar snarling at its base. Impossibly wide eyes watched as the one with the bat overcame the one holding a fan and took the lead, bent low to the ground

Grabbing a trash can lid as she passed by, GoGo twisted and threw it as hard as she could. She didn't look back to check if her aim was true, hearing one of woman crash to the ground. Hiro confirmed it with an almost sympathetic wince, muttering a small, “Ouch.”

They passed a familiar restaurant, one that she'd seen a couple of times on one of her runs; they were close to where Wasabi had parked and that itself was a relief. They only needed to last a little longer.

Tadashi plowed after her, following her lead (she had to give him credit at keeping a stable pace). He hadn't faltered once, or given any heed that his arm was hurting as it strained to support his brother's weight. Miraculously, even with this worry, they kept ahead of the skating women- though GoGo still made sure to knock down everything she could to make their chase difficult in any way.

Turning at the bend of the road, she spotted a familiar blonde head ahead. “GoGo!” Honey called when she saw her, “we didn't see him any-”

“Get in the car!” GoGo couldn’t understand why they were still standing around the car, easy targets waiting to get jumped. How they hadn't gotten mugged yet, she didn't know.

“Hey, you found-” Wasabi started, cutting it off with a scream as a metal fan came flying and embedded itself into the stop sign next to him. He jerked away, practically jumping into Fred’s arms. Fred took the weight (surprisingly stronger than he looked), stumbling back into the car with a grunt while Honey twirled about, disoriented about the sudden drama that had thrown itself in her lap.

Really, they were useless when it came to things like this. “If you're not in that car in three seconds I will drive it into the bay! You hear me, Wasabi?”

Fred fell to the ground when Wasabi jumped out of his arms, behind the wheel and turning the car on in record time. Honey hopped in the passenger seat and buckled herself in, just as their little group made it to the car. In record time Fred picked himself off the ground and jumped into the back without further ado, ducking when another fan came whizzing by. The moment Hiro’s feet were on the ground, he filed in after, tripping into the comic nerd. GoGo spared a glance behind her, the Fujitas only a small block away.

She shoved Tadashi after his brother, using her whole weight to close the door after her. They landed in a tangled mess on the car floor, but she didn't care as long as they were out of the crossfire. She pounded on the back of the driver seat. “Go! Go now!”

“Why are people always trying to kill us?” Wasabi wailed, putting the car in reverse and stepping on the gas. As he made a quick turn about, Fred and Hiro slipped from their seats and tumbled forward. Never before had GoGo thought that Fred was considered heavy, but that was before she was being crushed by his weight (she would throttle him for his ridiculous backpack that was smartly pressed against her butt). She let out a groan, though it sounded more like a growl, when they went over a speed bump and she cracked heads with someone.

"GoGo," a weak voice sounded out underneath her, "I'm not trying to insinuate anything, but _you're really heavy_."

It was then that she noticed what- or who she was draped across. Tadashi wheezed underneath her as she shifted, elbow accidentally jabbing him in the gut (hadn't that been where his stitches were?).

At least she hadn't hurt anything near his burns, though she highly doubted that they remained unscathed during their escape. He had just run for his life, carrying the weight of his little brother no less, and she was pretty sure that that wasn't the best thing to do in his condition.

"Got it." She twisted, trying her best not to knee him in the groin, and, with a precise punch that had Fred groaning and sliding to the side, sinking into the space between the front seats, made room. After some awkward shifting, where there was more than one complaint of stepped-on hands and a threat from Wasabi to turn the car around if they don't settle down, they were all generally comfortable. Though comfortable was a loose term, Gogo thought as her shoulders bumped awkwardly against Tadashi’s broad ones for a third time. Tadashi, for his part, didn't seem to notice the tight space; he practically latched onto his brother in their shared seat (but it may have been the other way around), and was, again, asking if Hiro was okay.

“Okay, anyone want to tell me what just happened?” Wasabi peered at them through the rearview mirror. “That was some heavy duty stuff and I really need an explanation because I have no idea what's going on anymore.”

“Simple,” GoGo said, pulling her foot out from underneath Fred’s. “We found genius here just standing around and then got jumped by a bunch of crazy, killer bi-”

“Fujitas,” Fred piped up as Tadashi covered Hiro’s ears with a warning glare.

Gogo rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I got on their bad side before when I kicked their sorry butts and they recognized me- I guess they wanted to get even.”

“And the plot thickens,” Fred said, rubbing his hands together, his elbow wiggling within a few inches of her face.

GoGo wordlessly shoved him back onto the floor.

“Whoa, hey, don't break the merchandise.” Fred righted himself and grinned. “And by merchandise, I mean _this_!”

He whipped out a shiny object out of his pocket, giving them a smug look. There, in his hand, was a metallic fan- the same one that had been used by the Fujitas in an attempt to end their lives just minutes before.

The car swerved as Wasabi had a small freak out. “H-hey, do not- why is _that_ in my car?”

“Souvenir.”

“Why would you want to remember-” Fred flicked his wrist, the fan opening smoothly and reflecting the light of the street lamps. “Hey, hey, hey! Do not, and I repeat, do not wave that thing around!”

Fred appeared not to have heard their nervous friend. “This was our first battle, guys. Isn't that awesome?” Only the radio responded, humming the slow melody of a love song that Gogo decided she hated. “Yeah, I know, same here- speechless.” He started fanning Honey, who shooed him away as she leaned against the window looking utterly exhausted. “Can't wait for the next one, though.”

Wasabi groaned and slammed his head against the steering wheel-

-only to swerve again as the horn sounded.

* * *

 

When all the chaos was over, the Hamada brothers dialed up a familiar number and made the dreaded call (how could they not when Tadashi had six missed called in the last five minutes).

It rang once before their aunt picked up.

 _“I wake up and neither of you are in your beds!_ ” Tadashi held the phone away from his ear, cringing at his aunt's frantic voice, the woman foregoing any pleasantries and immediately starting to rant before her nephews could get a single syllable in. Her voice filled up the entire car. “ _What am I supposed to think? That you joined the circus!"_

Hiro hesitantly leaned in with Tadashi, shoulders hunched at their aunt’s scolding tone.

"Sorry, Aunt Cass..." Tadashi murmured, already feeling thoroughly chastised.

Hiro wasn't far behind in his apology, showcasing a cheesy smile which the woman would never see. "Love you, Aunt Cass..."

“ _And I love you, too! But that doesn't mean you can go off to who knows where in the middle of the night! I'm already stress eating, but you think it's okay for me to eat the whole cafe? Where are you? Come home right now- no, wait, stay where you are! I'm coming to get you!_ ”

Tadashi looked behind them at the hill that was slowly growing smaller, with its heavily guarded gates and roller skating guard dogs, and laughed nervously. “It-It's alright, Aunt Cass. We'll, uh, we’ll catch a ride with- er, Gogo! Yeah, um, with her…cause she just, well, she just offered.”

The said girl crossed her arms over her chest and sent him a dark look, almost as if he was throwing her under the bus- and make no mistake, he was- simply because he didn't want to go down alone.

“ _What? Gogo's there with you? And she let you- Do her parents know where she is?_ ” It was truly amazing how Gogo had perfected her glare, seemingly able to burn holes through the soul itself. “ _Well, I'll have to call them now and tell them- Ha! We can go out to coffee and talk extensively about children who want to see their parents in an early grave!_ ”

“I'm- we're real sorry. It's just that we were looking for Baymax. He disappeared and-”

“ _Don't you lie to me, young man!_ ”

Wasabi slowed to a stop at a yellow light as Tadashi sputtered, “What? No, I'm not lying- we really were looking-”

 _“Baymax is right here next to me- making tea no less- so I don't want anymore lies. And another thing-”_ There was a clanking of chinaware and a voice that was familiarly monotone asking about sugar and the calming qualities of herbal tea. _“Oh, thank you- how did you know raspberry was my favorite? No sugar, I'm on a roll and wow, this is amazing. It's so sweet, you can't even taste the- wait, hold on, no… I'm angry. Yeah, angry and drinking some seriously good tea- but mostly angry.”_

Tadashi sent his brother a look, pulling away from the phone to say, “Baymax is at home with Aunt Cass.”

Hiro looked utterly baffled, hands immediately grabbing for the phone. Tadashi, out of habit and knowledge of little brothers with grubby hands, edged away. Using his height to his advantage, elbows up and neck craned to stay out of reach, the older Hamada kept his grip on his phone and kept talking, ignoring his brother's insistent talking.

“Aunt Cass, we'll be-”

“Let me see the phone!”

“Hey, don't-” Tadashi turned his face away from the fingers that found purchase in his defense and were currently prodding his cheek. Gogo hissed when their shifting had Fred, half draped over the armrest dividing the back and front seats, kicking her in the knee. “Boneheads who sneak out don't get phone privileges- those are the rules.”

“I don't care, just give it to me-”

_“If you boys continue arguing and don't get your butts here in ten- no, five minutes, you're grounded until Mochi learns to sing showtunes!”_

_“_ Yeah, got it Aunt Cass, we’re-,” after another attempt to take the phone, Tadashi put Hiro in a headlock (a skill his left arm had relearned with its newly healed status)- that'd teach him to interrupt him, “-we’re on our way.”

“ _You better be! We're not finished here!_ ”

His aunt hung up and Tadashi groaned, head bumping against the headrest of his seat.

“We're so dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!


	16. Dredged Up Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some fluffy Hamada angst.

Coming home to a livid aunt wasn't at the top of Tadashi’s list. The same went for having a thorough scolding that left his ear sore. But he took it all, accepting his fate and the grounding that came along with it, comforted in the fact that he wasn't in this alone.

Then Baymax came into the picture and he didn't know what to think.

Baymax wasn't in ruins, per say. Tadashi noted the new lines of stitches, the parts of his vinyl that looked more grey than white. Not only that but his gait was off, bothering Tadashi to no end because  _ what had happened to his robotics project _ ? The last time he'd seen him, Baymax had been in tiptop shape.

It was clear that Aunt Cass wasn't as observant, too frantic in her babbling to notice that his robot looked like he had been parading through the dump and back. Tadashi noted that she was on a roll with her current speech and was, impressively, still on topic.

Though she couldn't stay angry- or go on with the tirade- when Hiro wordlessly ran to tackle Baymax in a hug once the robot waddled his way from the kitchen carefully carrying a tray of tea. Not when such an expression of pure relief settled on the boy's face once the nursebot had told them of his more than fine status, offering a cup of tea to calm their fried nerves. And especially not when tears seemed to be forming at the corner of his eyes, hastily wiped away on vinyl before they could put on a show.

Tadashi mirrored his aunt with his own confused expression, shrugging helplessly when she looked to him for an answer.

Their aunt hunched over slightly and took a step forward, looking as if she wanted to touch the boy, but was afraid to. “Hiro, sweetie, why don't you take Baymax upstairs? You go on to bed while Tadashi and I talk.”

Hiro silently nodded, and moved to follow her direction, nursebot in tow. There wasn't the usual complaining about being treated like a kid, only silent acceptance. It was so unusual that even Aunt Cass noticed, frowning as they watched him sluggishly make his exit.

Once he was out of sight Aunt Cass crossed her arms and turned fully toward Tadashi. And with that fierce expression on her face, Tadashi felt almost jealous of Hiro and his lucky escape. “Tadashi, explain. Now.” 

Underneath the demanding tone, she sounded worried

So he told her half of the truth. He explained Baymax’s sudden disappearance, Hiro’s discovery that the nursebot was gone and his own ultimate decision to go after him. Aunt Cass didn't bring up the one blemish in his story, the fact that Baymax was obviously home now and seemed to have never left. Nor did she question why Hiro hadn't bothered to wake anyone up, much less Tadashi (considering it was his robotics project), only pressing her lips in a thin line when he explained that he'd gotten his friends together to help search for Hiro.

At the end of it, his aunt sighed- she looked tired, exceptionally so with her hair mussed and in her night robe and fuzzy slippers. “We'll talk more in the morning- well, later on in the morning… make sure he actually goes to bed, will you? I don't want to find him, I don't know, kidnapped by mobsters.”

Tadashi cringed inwardly at the accuracy of his aunt’s usually overactive imagination. “Yeah, will do.”

“And you too- make sure you get some rest.” She brought up a hand to rub at her forehead, turning towards the kitchen and muttering something along the lines of, “Heaven knows I won't.”

He stalled in the doorway, guilty.

Aunt Cass saw this and, sighing again, walked the few steps back to envelope him in a hug. Tadashi tried not to lean too much on her, but it was too easy- too nice to be held. He let his head fall onto her shoulder as she ruffled his hair, remembering a time when he had been much, much smaller and his mother had done the same. After a while she said something, but he couldn't hear her and pulled back slightly. 

“I said if you keep this up, I'll have to carry you to bed like I used to,” she tugged his ear playfully. “And both of us know that that can only end in some serious injuries.”

That earned a small smile from him, one that she reciprocated despite the tight wrinkles that were forming around her eyes. He pulled away completely then, reaching for the wooden railing and bracing a foot on the first step of the stairs. “Promise you'll get some sleep, too.”

“Of course, honey,” she promised as she made a shooing motion. “Now, go on. To bed with you.”

He gave her one last smile, hoping to lessen the burden she had been given. “Love you, Aunt Cass.”

It seemed to do the trick. Her shoulders relaxed a little at his words, eyes softening when they met his. “Love you, too.”

 

* * *

Tadashi walked into their shared room just as Baymax deflated back into his case, his comforting  _ there, there _ still echoing in Hiro’s ears.

“We need to talk.” There were no pleasantries, no questions about his well being, just that simple statement. It showed just how unavoidable the upcoming conversation was going to be- there would be no lame or hastily thought excuses to wiggle him out of this, for surely Tadashi was in full big brother mode and would not tolerate being ignored.

So, when Tadashi crossed his arms at his silence, looking expectant, Hiro shifted from foot to foot, unsure; he couldn't lie and he sure couldn't hide anything anymore. Whatever he did, it had to be settled right here and now.

He opted to stall. “How did you even find me?”

Here, Tadashi blinked in surprise at the abrupt question, looking uncertain. Sock padded feet took a little half step backwards, his aura of authority deflating slightly. Weird. Wasn't Hiro supposed to be the guilty one?

“I, uh, followed you… with some help… it's, uh, something that I, uh, made…” He trailed off at Hiro's blank expression and swallowed, looking impossibly torn and more than a little worried, before finally coming to a decision with two awkward nods of his head. He reached into the pocket of his blazer and brought out a small handheld, meeting Hiro’s eyes straight on. “No secrets.”

Still confused, Hiro took the device. It looked ordinary, skinny but blockish. Nothing too special, especially when compared to the tech that he and his brother had hashed out in previous years.

Tadashi mimed turning it on, so Hiro copied him. A map of their neighborhood appeared, and a single dot. It was just the dot and street names, nothing else (what kind of GPS was this?). He frowned, eyes squinting and nose wrinkling as he took note of the dot's position. It was their street, where their house was, right above the Lucky Cat Cafe. But why would Tadashi need this? They all but had their address memorized- 

-then everything clicked into place.

Hiro gaped at the pulsing dot on the screen- him, he was the dot! “Dude!”

“How else was I supposed to keep track of you when you snuck out?” Tadashi said helplessly, watching as Hiro leaned this way and that as if hoping the dot would move accordingly. “You would never tell me anything and… and I needed some way to make sure you were safe.”

The younger stared at the device, mind going a hundred miles per second. Every time his brother had swooped in the nick of time, just as things were beginning to turn south- it all made sense now. He'd always known where he was to begin with.

Hiro felt wronged, felt violated. “This… this is-”

“The only reason we were able to find you tonight!”

Right. His own secret blew this one out of the water big time, giving him no leeway to complain and get angry. He couldn't argue when no harm came from tracking him, not when it was the only reason he wasn't left to find his way home alone in the middle of the night or beaten to a pulp in some alleyway. A small part of Hiro wondered where the chips were placed- and there were undoubtedly more than one, he was sure. In the soles of his shoes? Or were they sewn into his clothes? Maybe even inside him- he swallowed and twitched slightly.

“I know it seems a little… invasive, but really, can you blame me? You were always sneaking out to some bot fight or another, and tonight wasn't any different. Honestly, what else was I supposed to do? I was running out of options.”

He wanted to be angry, to turn a cold shoulder and show his brother just what he thought about being tracked like a dog. But there was none of that, his anger and betrayal fading and leaving only fear and regret.

Tadashi only wanted to help him, like always.

Still, the young genius tried a feeble attempt at defending himself. "I didn't plan for this to happen..."

“No one plans to get kidnapped, Hiro,” Tadashi argued, “but that's just it, you were. You were kidnapped in the middle of the night!”

Hiro couldn't argue with that. None of it had been a dream, the knife weighing heavily in his pocket a solid reminder to this.

His brother let out a short laugh that borderlined hysterical, sounding a lot like Aunt Cass had when he had fallen down an entire flight of stairs attempting a new skateboard trick when he was eight. “I mean, this is so absurd- absolutely crazy. You were kidnapped by the mob and we were attacked out on the street and wow, I think I need to lie down.” Tadashi swayed and Hiro reached out instinctively, but his broter just shook his head as if to clear it and righted himself. “I have half a mind to go to the police right now and tell them everything. I honestly don't know why I haven't already- maybe Baymax should scan me because I must be losing my mind…”

Hiro lowered his arms and nervously rubbed at his left elbow. “I already tried and they didn't believe me.”

Never before had he been so helpless. The police hadn't believed him before, what would make them believe him now? What could he say that would make them pause long enough to listen? That he, a kid, had made an enemy out of one of San Fransokyo's dangerous criminals? That he had escaped with the help of a mysterious boy with wicked knife skills? That he was almost killed for quick entertainment, for sport? That his childhood nightmares couldn't compare to being thrown about by complete strangers and almost having his head sawed off? That he wanted to erase the memories, only he was afraid that he'd see the cage in his dreams?

No, they wouldn't understand.

At his downcast face, Tadashi stopped his babbling and took a deep breath. And another one. At his fourth Hiro could see the return of the calm and patient person who usually took residence in his brother's body.

“Talk to me, kiddo,” his brother whispered, taking a step forward and settling a hand on his shoulder. “You've been avoiding me for a while now and… and, well, I can't take much more of all this- all these secrets.” His expression crumbled just a bit. “Please.”

Suddenly, Hiro felt tired. He felt the ache in his bones and the lag of his mind, all a result of keeping this whole mess bottled up. Everything about him was empty, all his determination spent and his good intent lost during his time at Yama’s. This secret ultimately blew up in his face, dragging his brother along despite all the hard work he’d invested into making sure that that didn’t happen.

Though, that wasn't surprising. Everything he did ended as disasters. Deciding to take on the masked man, a stupid, childish idea that got everyone he cared for involved. Trying to get into SFIT, a hollow dream that ended in flames. And making the microbots, the biggest mistake of them all. It was hard to see the good in them when they were the sole cause of the fire- the prize the masked man sought after, the reason that the night of the showcase, which was supposed to be the best in his entire life, turned into the worst. It was all one big mistake.

Even his bot fighting had come back to haunt him, adding more problems. And there was no way he'd bounce back without feeling the side effects. He’d been kidnapped, almost killed, and put every one of his friends in danger.

Baymax had been  _ attacked _ because of him.

His body moved forward on its own accord, his feet bringing him closer while his arms reached out until they were wrapped around Tadashi’s middle. The response was immediate, his older brother returning the embrace; Hiro felt the rough material of bandaging on the side of his head, where his jaw met his ear.

Tadashi's breath was warm on the top of his head. "If we're going to get through this, bud, you're going to have to trust me."

Trust, his mind whispered as his grip tightened, it all came down to that.

And so, Hiro told him.

He told him about the weeks spent at the hospital, waiting and dealing with the constant pity party. About accidentally activating Baymax and the whole chase through the city that ultimately led them to the masked man. About how his microbots were the endgame, the reason behind the fire.

Pressed against his brother’s chest, Hiro explained why he snuck out with Baymax, why GoGo was arrested, what he and their friends had finally decided on: to capture the masked man themselves. He told him about the unfinished armor that lay hidden in the garage and the desperate promise he had enacted from his friends to keep Tadashi out of it all and safe.

He recounted the events of his kidnap and Yama’s house with immaculate detail. Baymax's impromptu appearance and seemingly demise, meeting up with Yama, and being pitted against a two thousand pound robot- all terrible in their own away. Though, his voice didn't shake when he told his brother about his fear, staying rightly detached when he spoke about how he thought he was going to die. Only when he had started talking about the realization he had stumbled across amidst the smoke and power saws- about how he would never see Tadashi and Aunt Cass again- did his voice waver. 

The only resemblance of life in his voice arose when talking about Taka; there was the sense of childish excitement, as if it was a game, that the boy had oozed and it had made it all slightly more bearable. It was simple, natural even, to disclose to his older brother the strangeness of the escape and the boy’s excitable personality and how, if it had been a different circumstance, Hiro might've even called him a friend.

There was the total confusion he felt, everyday giving him something to stress over. How he desperately craved for some answers himself, but from Taka’s apparent association to Tadashi and the mystery behind the masked man he was grasping straws. Every aspect of their life was going haywire and he, the certified genius, couldn’t understand why.

Hiro poured out every secret and Tadashi listened.

* * *

 

Hiro rubbed his eyes, feeling the irritation that only came from staring at one thing for a long period of time. He was tired, far more than he'd ever felt.

He eyed the board in front of him, chaotic with its tangled strings and newspaper clippings, trying to figure out what was alluding him. His eyes trailed over the red thread that connected one lead to another, noting the who, where, and when; in the end, all he got was an ever-growing headache and wasn't any closer to an answer.

“None of this is making any sense.” Hiro pulled at his hair, groaning and feeling insufficient. “All of these contracts with Yama and his help, none of it is necessary. He could do everything without them.”

“Sure he could, but here he is in cahoots with the idiot.” Ren looked far more comfortable than he felt, laid back in her chair with her feet propped up and a tablet in her grasp. Despite the fact that she was supposedly in charge of the roller derby, Hiro hadn't once seen her do anything business related, preferring to hang about while he struggled.

He flopped down in the only other chair in the small room, settling his head on his arms and muttering under his breath, “This was way simpler the first time.”

“Are you going to start whining again?” Ren asked, not looking away from her screen.

Hiro lifted his head to send her a sour look, but it didn't have as much acid as he wanted it to. “I’m not whining. And even if I was- which I'm not- I think I'm allowed to, since I am the only one doing anything.”

She didn't get offended by the jab, instead readjusting herself in her seat; the old leather squeaked with the movement. “Hey, I'm not the genius here- you are. So, if anyone's going to crack this, it's going to have to be you.”

There was a lull in the conversation, one where Hiro let his head fall sideways, cushioned in the bend of his right arm. He could hear the muffled sound of people going about their business outside, occasionally spotting a flash of bright color and face paint peeking through the haphazardly drawn blinds of the small office.

His left arm swept across the table, scratching at the wood with his nail as he thought over his predicament. Eventually he sighed, tired, “I don't know- everything is going way out of control. I… don't think I can handle it.”

Out of his peripheral vision he saw Ren pause, but he refused to look at her, instead keeping his eyes focused on how his finger traced the grooves of the woods. It was hard enough admitting his own doubts out loud, but it was something else facing her as she laughed at him and his childish insecurities. Why he chose now, and her, was an unsolvable mystery- it had just come out. He was so used to having Tadashi, his friends, or Baymax around to keep him grounded that it was difficult being on his own and keeping his thoughts light.

“Look, kid,” Ren started, setting down her tablet, and Hiro found himself regretting saying anything. “I think-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Stick with the deal.” He took back his hand and angled himself in his seat so he was facing the side wall and the lopsided book shelf stationed there. “We aren't friends, we're partners- I get it.”

He could feel her stare on his face.

Hiro sighed again, actually feeling his mood sinking. Sometimes it was hard distinguishing these people from those he could label as friends. The lines blurred indefinitely the more time he spent with them. Yes, they were criminals, but they were also people, too; it could be easily seen in how they interacted with each other, almost like a family (a family that probably organized heists on holiday vacations). How the kids laughed and played around the rink, somehow getting even the most tough looking individuals to join them. How Ren talked with the majority of the Fujitas, organizing them with a cool and considerate mind one minute and snarling protectively on their behalf the next. How the girls followed her command with loyalty that remind Hiro of his friends, sending the tough woman looks of respect and admiration.

The lines blurred and Hiro could see himself warming up to them.

“You're right. We aren't friends.” Even though he knew the words were coming it still hurt a little bit, and he knew why: he wanted to be surrounded by (his) friends, not temporary allies (them). “You're an annoying brat who talks too much, interrupts everyone, and doesn't know when to shut up. And don't even get me started on your attitude-”

“Wow, thanks, you really know how to make people feel better,” Hiro grumbled, sinking lower in his seat.

“Shut up, I'm not finished.” The woman snapped her fingers three times, silencing him. “You're sarcastic too- always with something to say. Cut it down once in awhile, will you? Let me see, what else… oh, I remember- you're majorly rude when you're in one of your moods, always thinking you know everything like you're some kind of prophet.”

“Truly inspiring.” Hiro rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “What a pep talk. You know, you should consider becoming a motivational speaker because, really, you've got it down to a T.”

Ren set an arm on the table and leaned forward almost threateningly. “Hey, what did I say about interrupting me?”

“Well, then, get to the point. Unless you're just saying all this for nothing- if that's it, then spare me.”

She huffed and leaned back into her seat, the chair rocking. “The  _ point _ is that you may be all those things, but you're also smart. Smarter than everyone in this damn building if we're going to be brutally honest. So, use that big brain of yours and get out of this funk you're in.” He finally looked her way, the familiar words resonating with him, and watched as she brought out her knife, twisting it between her fingers in what was routine with her. “You're like one of my girls when they lose a jam, acting like the world’s going to end. I don't want to hear it from them and I sure as hell don't want to hear it from you.”

He continued to stare, still a little dubious at what he was hearing. Because from what he was getting, Ren didn't loathe him nearly as much as she let on. A small part of his mind wondered what that meant; they weren't friends sure, but maybe, just maybe, they could be.

He felt his lips twitch of their own accord. “I'm pretty sure there was a compliment in there somewhere.”

“Yeah, well, don't get used to it,” she told him briskly, sniffing, “And wipe that stupid look off your face- it's nauseating.” She pointed the blade of her knife to the abandoned board. “Now, figure this out. It all started with that stupid fire, didn't it?”

“Right, yeah, the fire.” It took a moment to recollect and organize his thoughts. “Well, the fire was just a diversion- a way to get the microbots, that's it. Everyone would think that all of them were destroyed and, well, no one’s going to go out of their way to fill out a missing report for tech that's supposedly gone.”

Hiro was out of the chair and standing once again, feet shoulder width apart as he stared challengingly at the wall, willing the answers to come. The microbots were just the beginning, the means to get the final goal: getting the portal together and attacking Krei Tech.

“Must've been good tech.” Ren’s voice sounded out from behind him, tone almost encouraging as it pushed him forward- toward the answer she had faith he would find. He tried not to dwell on how much it reminded him of Tadashi.

“It was part of the exhibition, so yeah, it had to be good.” It took a lot of effort for Hiro to keep his bragging to a minimum (his tech was pretty awesome and it was always nice to remind people). “Yokai knew that going in.”

“You know, for a guy that's causing so much trouble, I haven't seen much of that dumb mask of his. There hasn't been any reports of him since the other night- and that was only briefly, but I guess he's old news now. Apparently, the police have their hands full with the thefts at Krei Tech.”

Now that was new information.

Hiro whirled around, almost tripping himself. That didn't sound like a coincidence. “Krei Tech was robbed?”

Ren didn't look nearly as concerned, picking at a hangnail and effectively reverting back to her usual distant and sharp persona. “Yeaup. A bunch of tech was stolen a couple days ago. I hear the CEO is trying to keep it all hush-hush- took a while before my people got wind of it.”

“And did they find out by who?”

“The usual crew.”

Yama. Of course, it had to be Yama. Who else but Yama? Callaghan wouldn't concern himself with such an open display- at least, not yet. “And you were going to tell me this when?”

“I'm telling you now, aren't I?”

“That's not- ugh, nevermind.” She let him struggle and then handed him information on the fly, uncaring that it could've been important (or saved him the trouble of going through that embarrassing moment of weakness). Hiro leaned a hip against the table between them, crossing his arms. “What was stolen?”

“Just some of your average million dollar equipment.” Ren waved a hand flippantly. “Not that Krei cares. Apparently he's more focused on his big opening.”

That did sound like the CEO, Hiro had to admit. The man had gotten better over the years, but he was dealing with the younger version, as well as his irresponsible tendencies. That meant the man would do everything in his power to stay ahead of the game and keep his business on top- even if it meant cutting a few losses.

And Callaghan needed the parts for the portal. Hiro couldn't recall the professor ever needing to steal more tech, but then again, he hadn't bothered to look into what model the machinery was, just assuming everything was brought together as smoothly as those go-kart kits Aunt Cass had gotten him for his birthday years ago. Honestly, he should have known better- one of the parts of the portal had been at the bottom of the bay for however long, so there surely would be some damage and need of replacement.

Who else to provide the tech than Krei?

“He's trying to ruin Krei even more,” Hiro continued out loud, saying it more to himself than anyone else, “He's killing two birds with one stone.”

“Is there something you wanna share with the class, kid?”

But Hiro was on a roll, not paying her question any mind. He had a hunch and would bet money that more than just average equipment was stolen. “While he gives Yama Krei’s stolen tech, he can take what he needs and Krei can't report those parts because of the bad publicity. The police will go after Yama, since he's the only traceable lead, so Calla- I mean, Yokai won't have to deal with being caught.”

“So this is about Krei?”

He sighed impatiently, spotting a stray thumbtack and pinning it where Krei Industries was located on the map taped to the board. “No, it's about ruining Krei. More importantly, how he's ruined. Either he speaks out and have his big opening suffer or keep quiet while he loses money.” In no time, the pins representing Yama and Krei were connected with their own string.

Ren whistled. “Must really have it out for the guy.”

Hiro thought of daughters lost in space, fires, and of ‘Baymax, destroy.’ Thought of that feeling of grief, heavy and unforgiving, and how easy it was to drown in it. He gave a small nod. “It's personal.”

The woman seemed to take this at face value. “Revenge I get, but that can't be the only reason he's in it with Yama.”

Hiro glanced back at her. “What do you mean?”

Her focus was still on her finger, now pushing at her cuticles. “Well, whenever people make a deal with Yama, or anyone really, they want something in return.” Here, she cast him a quick glance and a smirk. “And if you can get more than what you bargained for… well, then you better hope it's the good kind.”

The teenager scrunched his face, thinking over her words. “So, what you're saying is that Yokai is using Yama for something else?”

“All I'm saying is that Yama is good at more than taking the blame.”

“Yeah, he's good at being a son of a- oh, I see. He's here to deal with us,” Hiro said, finger worrying his lower lip. Then, he straightened. “No. Me. He's in this mess to deal with me.”

Callaghan going the extra mile was all because of him. He messed with fate and now it was changing far more than he expected- Tadashi was alive, but the situation got a lot more confusing in consequence. Speaking of which-

“And that friend of yours, I'd say.”

Hiro blinked out of his thoughts. “Friend?”

“Yeah, friend. The one you jumped the gun for and dove into a burning building.” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, splaying her hands in a mock-superhero fashion. “You know, in all your heroic glory.”

Hiro froze.

Tadashi.

But Ren was still going, unperturbed at his lack of response. “Collateral damage, most likely. Doesn't want to risk anyone leaking anything out, even if it's a slim chance. And what better way to solve that problem then to cut it off altogether?”

“Cut it off?” Hiro's voice was a disgusted whisper. Did the universe want his brother dead because, honestly, it seemed like that was the case. No matter what he did, there always seemed to be something to follow; he saved Tadashi from the fire only to have him targeted by San Fransokyo's mafia.

“Mhm. A clean cut- well, it was supposed to be before my girls were stopped at the hospital.” She finished fixing her nails, extending them out from her body and inspecting them with a critical eye. “You're real lucky you had someone there, or else he'd be long gone.”

Hiro thought about the stolen copies of the police report of that night sitting in his room, hidden away under the floorboards with the rest of his stuff. Never before had he ever truly appreciated the mere existence of Gogo and her kick-butt attitude. He would have to thank her- actually, all of his friends- one day.

“So,” Ren said, taking a strong hold of his attention, “what are you going to do?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I can't take Yokai head on- at least, not yet anyway. Not without the portal. I'll have to find a way to take care of the machinery he's accumulated so far- steal it back maybe.”

She opened her mouth, probably to ask about the portal and add it to the insignificant amount of information she had on it, but was stopped by a knock on the window. Without a word of clearance from the woman, the door opened and a blonde head peaked in.

Ren twisted in her seat, scowl already in place. “Momo, how many times have I told you, you can't just barge into-”

The girl, round face scrunched up in a pouty version of the woman's expression, spoke up before the scolding could truly start, “There's a problem downstairs- Taka accidently almost stabbed someone.”

Hiro raised his eyebrows, wondering how one could ‘accidentally almost’ stab someone; it was so absurd sounding that he involuntarily let out a single bark of laugh, only to end it with a cough at the blonde’s glare.

Ren didn't find it as funny.

“Again?” Her chair was spun around as she rose from it, hands thrown into the air. “This is the third and last time, got it? I'm not going to let any of you hang around here if this keeps up. And what are you doing still up, anyway? All of you should have been in bed hours ago.”

Mini-Fujita drew her gaze from where it had settled on Hiro, face coloring visibly. She retreated back a little, bowing her head in shame when the derby owner ripped the door open completely and marched out with murder in her eyes. 

Not knowing what else to do, Hiro followed. He patted the blonde on the head when he passed her, muttering a sympathetic, “She's not going to kick anyone out- she secretly likes us too much.”

The girl huffed and looked away, crossing her arms in such a way that it reminded him of Ren, but didn't complain about the treatment (at that age Hiro was already spouting soliloquies about how grownup he was and why he should be treated as such). “Yeah, I already knew that.”

Hiro was reminded of his talks with Aunt Cass whenever he and Tadashi had a fight, easily diluting an argument to a point where Hiro felt stupid for not understanding, and afforded himself one more small laugh. He gave the blonde another pat, but she took one glance at him and ran off; even without the skates, the girl was beside Ren faster than he'd expect, clutching her like a lifeline.

Hiro didn't follow up on the sudden cold shoulder, knowing it wouldn't be so when they met again and he offered to play tag with her and the rest of the kids. He shook his head and, with the thought of reacquainting himself with his bed, directed himself toward his own room- only to be stopped by someone pulling him back by his hood. More often than not, he hated when people did that, this being one occasion. His face morphed into the usual frown as he stumbled back, ready to snap at whoever had him.

Then Connor was beside him, stabilizing him by casually draping a hand around his shoulders and turning him back towards the room he'd just left. “Hey there, Hiro. Let's have a chat, shall we?”

Hiro shrugged the man off. “Maybe later. I kind of have more important things to do.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that.” 

The teenager raised an eyebrow at the man's tone, taking in the pleasant smile and finding himself immediately suspicious. It was well-known that Connor never went out of his way to talk with people, usually waiting for them to come to him- and they always did.

He crossed his arms, putting up a strong front despite his fatigue. “Fine, then. What do you want?”

Instead of speaking, the freckled man just pulled the hand from behind his back and presented whatever was in his hand in a way that had Hiro jerking his head back in order to not get whacked in the face. Brown eyes went cross eyed to look at the picture suddenly thrusted into his face. He blinked rapidly, focusing.

The awkward smile of his thirteen year old self stared back at him. 

What.

“Look familiar?” Connor asked, watching his face carefully.

Oh, it certainly did look familiar. A near mirror image of himself depicted on the crisp piece of photo paper. Of course, if he was being completely honest (desperate), that itself wasn't particularly self-incriminating. Sure, the picture obviously had his younger self in it, but he could easily argue the fact that brothers often looked identical at certain ages. 

Except that there were two people in the picture, one that was taller and broader in shoulder. What he couldn't argue were the similarities between the two, something that only family members had. Hiro could feel the blood drain from his face because the picture wasn't taken from a distance, but rather, as if someone close had asked the two to say “cheese” and taken the shot.

Not good. Definitely not good.

His eyes darted between the picture and the expectant man in front of him. He opened his mouth, working it like a gaping fish, only for no words to form.

Connor yanked his hand back when he made to grab the discriminating evidence, raising a finger in a chiding manner. “Now, hold on, Mr. Hamada.”

Hiro visibly twitched at the name. This was getting considerably worse by the second.

“Now that I've got your attention,” Connor said quietly, low enough that anyone walking by wouldn't hear, “will you reconsider that chat?”

The genius could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his veins buzzing with electrified blood and terror. Within the few seconds it has taken the man to finish his sentence, Hiro was going over his options. Physical action was all but blown out the window, not with him head deep in the Fujitas’ headquarters. Denial was still plausible, but an unlikely solution. He was truly and surely trapped- a paralyzed fly caught in a spider’s web.

His gulp was loud, but his nod, silent.

Connor flashed a winning smile under his scruff. “Perfect.”

So, Hiro could do nothing but let the ticket man push him back into the office, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

 

Hiro had always been a hassle when he was younger, lying coming easily to him just as math did, duping people time and time again. Tadashi normally forbade most of it, but there were always a few set instances where he would sit back and enjoy the show, watching his brother con the best of people.

Only this time he'd been the one lied to,  _ repeatedly _ .

And if that didn't set his mood sour, he didn't know what would.

Now, all he wanted to do was sleep and get a few hours of peace, off into a world where nothing was wrong and he hadn’t been lied to for days on end. Unfortunately, sleep was hard to come by; not only would his mind not stop its everlasting whirlwind of thoughts, but his chest and side burned as if they had been branded by a hot iron. Every little movement- every slight shift and twitch- had his arms and legs aching, screaming at him at what a bad decision it had been to go out; he wished he hadn't already taken his medication for the night, longing for those drowsy side effects.

He heard rustling from the other side of the room. Although they'd agreed to settle in for the night and continue in the morning when they had a full night's sleep, Hiro hadn't looked any better. On any normal night, that would've been unacceptable, but Tadashi didn't think he could handle more stories about nightmarish houses and vengeful mob bosses out for blood.

“Tadashi…” Hiro’s voice was soft, and he could just imagine him standing there at the foot of his bed, uncharacteristically unsure- tittering like a balance, weighing the consequences. “Are you asleep?"

Tadashi didn't answer. He stared at his alarm clock, burning the red numbers into his mind as he wondered why he hadn’t closed the divider that separated the room.

The bed dipped with Hiro’s weight, groaning as he crawled onto the mattress and shifted into a comfortable position; it was a tight fit- the bed wasn't big enough for them to squish into like they had when they were kids, but Hiro made it work somehow. Tadashi felt him press against his back, not at all put off by the lack of space.

The only noise came from their breathing, even the refrigerator downstairs in the cafe remaining silent. And then, so quietly that he wasn't sure he'd really heard it, “Are you mad at me?”

It was with precarious movements that Tadashi looked over his shoulder, surprised. Even in the darkness, his brother's figure was recognizable, a blob of black that radiated body heat.

Was he angry at his brother?

There was the disappointment that he wasn't confided in something that obviously concerned him. There was the frustration of being the last to know. And there was the sadness in how they had drifted apart so suddenly- so easily.

Yes, he was angry, but it was overshadowed by so much more. Relief, trepidation, uncertainty.

Taking care not to put too much weight on his arm, he flipped onto his back and looked at his brother; the kid had shifted so that he laid half on top of Tadashi’s right shoulder,  uncomfortably pressing into his clavicle, with his face angled closer. Hiro stared back at him, the whites of his eyes bright in the dark.

“You broke rule three.” Hamada brothers  _ always _ trusted each other. There had been the sneaking around for the bot fighting, but that was different, on a lower scale that could be excused. He had known about that- Hiro had been everything but sneaky about that. What they were dealing with was on a whole other level, possibly leading to someone getting seriously hurt.

He could barely see the guilty look on Hiro's face. "I-I know."

"Don't you trust me?"

“I do trust you, it’s just... I wanted this to be different.” Hiro went on, his gaze intently set on the shoulder underneath him as he picked aimlessly at the shirt covering it. "I mean, you always take care of me so, you know, I thought that it'd be my turn this time. I could protect you."

He could feel his earlier anger dissolving, evaporating off him and into the stratosphere, leaving him feeling touched at his brother’s words. It all had good intent.

“I thought that, I don't know, you wouldn't want-” Tadashi opened his mouth, but stopped just short of speaking at his brother's look. “-that you shouldn't have to deal with anymore problems- my problems. I mean… you always make sure I'm happy and, well, I thought that maybe it was my turn to keep you happy.”

He sighed. “Hiro, did you honestly think that lying to me would make me happy?”

“No…” The moments when Hiro actually sounded his age were few and far between, but Tadashi could hear it now. “I- well, I just thought that you'd be better off thinking that the fire was an accident.” Hiro glanced up at him. “I could catch the guy and fix everything before you found out- that way you wouldn't try to stop me.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe there’s a good reason why I would try to stop you- actually, there are so many that it's honestly unbelievable.”

His little brother didn't answer, but pressed his nose uncomfortably into Tadashi's shoulder, hiding. Hiding as if he were seven again and it was his first day of school, too scared and nervous to even let go of his hand. Tadashi felt his heart soften and burst.

“Hey.” He nudged him with his bandaged hand, getting his attention. "Big brother prerogative. I'm supposed to take care of  _ you _ , not the other way around."

His brother didn't lift his head and smile like Tadashi was expecting, but, rather, leaned in further, nails digging painfully into his shoulder as his grip grew tighter. “You keep saying that, but that doesn’t mean I want you to go around throwing yourself into danger."

“You're the one who'll get run over if you don't look where you're going once in awhile.” Another attempt at procuring a smile ended in a failure.

“That's not what I meant.”

He frowned. Now he was confused. “Then what do you mean?”

“I mean how you'd jump in front of a train to help someone.”

Strangely, Tadashi felt indignant. His left hand came up to place itself over his heart as he inched his chin back. “I do not-”

“‘Someone has to help,’” Hiro quoted, bracing a hand on Tadashi's shoulder as he raised himself partially so he could dramatically extend the other hand out in the space between them, voice deepening in that lame impression of him (after the night they had, his shoulder was crying at the abuse). “It's totally dangerous, but that doesn't matter because I'm Tadashi and I'm Mister Goody Two-Shoes and I-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” The older pushed the younger back down, bouncing onto the mattress, the former making a face when one of the other's runaway hands whacked him in the face. “You've made your point, knucklehead.”

“Hey, I'm not- you're the one who's a knucklehead, knucklehead.”

“You know, that's exactly what a knucklehead would say.”

Hiro spluttered a “Why, I never,” as Tadashi flicked him in the forehead, smiling.

It felt so good to revert back to this old routine. The one where they could joke and smile and laugh with each other, no secrets to come between them. It reminded him of days spent in the garage- sessions of brainstorming turning into a playful wrestling match or a full out war of pelting gummy bears at each other- long before their life was turned upside down by mobsters and masked men and women in roller skates. He felt lighter now, no longer weighed down by their burning troubles. But, of course, it couldn't last- nothing ever did nowadays.

Hiro settled back down, curled up against his side like Mochi on a winter’s night. “You're the only one allowed to call me that.”

“‘Knucklehead?’” Tadashi side eyed his little brother, yawning. “Well, I would hope so, seeing as I did make up the name when I was ten- one of my finest moments, I think.”

But Hiro seemed to not have heard him, the boy staring resolutely at Tadashi's bicep. “I don't want anyone else calling me that.”

Tadashi turned his head to face his brother full on. “I get it, but you know Aunt Cass also calls you that, so-”

“No one else, ever.”

He had the vague suspicion that they weren't necessarily talking about the nickname anymore. “Hiro, I-”

“Just you.”

Tadashi reached over and slapped a hand over his little brother's mouth. “Hey, let me talk, will you?” After a stern look and an answering nod, he took back his hand. “Now, let's make one thing clear, okay? As your older brother, I get full and all rights to calling you Knucklehead and Genius and Snooty-Booty or whatever name I come up with- and I promise to uphold that duty for as long as I live. Nothing can change that.”

Despite the smile that he added to measure down whatever newfound angst was plaguing his brother, Tadashi seemed to have said something wrong because Hiro frowned, “Like running into burning buildings?”

“What?”

“You said nothing can change that.” Hiro clarified, eyes reminding him of an owl in how eerily big they appeared in that moment. “But running into burning buildings- that can change that.”

Now they were on another subject altogether, with him as the offender.

“Er, yeah, I guess it has the possibility to…”

“… the possibility…”

Tadashi didn't like the blank expression his kid brother took as he repeated the phrase. He opened his mouth, to offer that piece of big brother advice that always came naturally to him in times of trouble- only to find that he didn't have any. This troubled him- if he couldn't help his brother, then what was he good for?

Hiro was quiet after that and Tadashi didn't try to fill the silence. Whether or not they were going to continue this conversation wasn't up to him, he'd follow through with whatever Hiro wanted- he owed him that much.

The minutes ticked by, the clock by his bedside telling him that it was almost three in the morning. A sudden wave of sleepiness swept over him at the lag of conversation and he found himself drifting off, struggling to keep awake.

“-go in?”

Tadashi blinked a few times, missing his brother’s abrupt question. “Hm?”

Hiro, looking all too awake, spoke as though he was speaking to a child. “Why did you go in?”

Another length of silence passed as Tadashi considered how to answer. ‘Someone has to help’ couldn't cut it this time. “Well… we aren't the only brothers- there are thousands, millions of them all around the world- and I bet quite a few of them would be pretty sad to have that taken away from them, wouldn't you? And it just wouldn't be fair to them for me to not help in anyway I can to make sure that doesn't happen. Why shouldn't I try to help someone when I know there's something I can do?”

Hiro hooked his fingers into the collar of his shirt. “Yeah, but you aren't their older brother- you're mine.”

“Well, what if the roles were reversed? What if I needed help and someone- maybe, possibly, even someone else's brother- had a choice to help me?” Tadashi countered evenly, eyes trailing upwards and tracing the outline of the ceiling. “Wouldn't you be cheering them on? I know I would, especially if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Most people  _ wouldn't _ help. The bystander effect-”

“People are more than theories and models, Hiro. No one knows what they'll do until the moment comes, so everyone should be given the benefit of the doubt.”

His brother looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he asked,“So you don't regret going in?”

The truth rolled off his tongue like molasses. “I regret making you and Aunt Cass worry, but no, I don't regret going in.”

Hiro's voice was infinitely small when he asked the next question. “Even if you didn't save Professor Callaghan?”

There was the usual pang of guilt and sadness that came whenever his old mentor was brought up, but he pushed it down and breathed out a, “Yes, even when I couldn't save…” He couldn't bring himself to say his professor's name. “It was still the right thing to do. Even if there was a slim chance, I'd still do it again.”

And he would do it again. Until the moment came, he wouldn't know for sure, but he could only assume that it wouldn’t be any different.

Somebody had to help.

There was silence between them again. Tadashi closed his eyes, thinking that it was over and that the rest of the conversation would take place in the morning, when they weren't exhausted. He had also thought it was a mutual understanding.

Except: “There's got to be a rule against this.”

“Hiro,” he groaned, rubbing his face. It was too late to continue arguing, much less be awake. He'd wanted to go to sleep and now, when he was on the brink, Hiro wouldn't let him.

“Running into a burning building  _ and _ not listening when I told you to come back- that's breaking, like, two rules right there, I'm sure of it. Well, almost sure.”

“Hiro.”

“Okay, maybe eighty percent sure.”

“Hiro.”

“Well, whatever, there should still be a rule against it.”

Tadashi could feel his arm tingle when his brother shifted, the sheets rubbing against the line where skin met scars along his shoulder. He felt one of his socks slipping off his heel and grimaced, it deepening when one of Hiro's icy feet touched him. “Please, Hiro, go to sleep.”

But his brother didn't listen. “I’m proposing a modification to rule thirteen: Hamada brothers help those in need,  _ if and only if _ your life isn’t in danger.”

“Hiro.” This time his brother stopped, looking at him like he’d suddenly realized he was there. “You can’t just change the rules.”

There was a wild look in his brother's eyes, torn between determination and desperation. “Why not?”

“We made those rules knowing that we'd follow them. I can't change who I am just as much as you can't change who you are.”

Silence again. 

Tadashi blinked, long and slow, as he pushed a hand behind his head and underneath his pillow, sighing at the feeling of the cooler temperature on his heated skin.

“But what if-”

“Rule zero,” he reminded him quietly, pulling the covers higher so that it came to his chest. Tadashi could feel his brother shift closer, curling deeper into his side and almost getting swallowed completely by the fabric.

Eyes peeked over the top of the covers at him. “... Hamada brothers always stay together.”

“That's right,” Tadashi yawned, closing his eyes, “and I'm never leaving you.”

“Promise?”

He hummed in response. “Promise.”

* * *

 

Hiro paced in his temporary room of the Flower Garden, having holed himself in after the hectic night. He was high strung and queasy, for once in his life not knowing his next move.

His secret was out. Someone knew and he didn't know what to do.

Correction: two people knew.

He didn't know what to do- what was someone supposed to do when their secret as a time traveler was out? Tell them? Console in them? No, just the thought of lowering his walls after so long of trying to keep it all a secret was strange, disconcerting even.

Plus, thinking about time travel always left his head pounding, the rules bending and changing whenever he considered one theory over another. Scientists spent years thinking and theorizing over the probability of paradoxes and their existence, whereas he was one genius under special circumstances and pressed time. He could limit the number of theories he was dealing with, which helped ease his worry over accidentally creating an alternate timeline or erasing someone from history or some other crazy scenario that was popular in the media culture, but he couldn't afford to take baby steps now.

Not that he was thinking about taking it slow when the freckled man had dropped that bombshell, straight into Hiro's unsuspecting corner. He was halfway thinking of knocking the man out and making a run for it when Connor had told him that he had no intention of telling Ren- or anyone for that matter- and that, through him, Damato was sworn not to speak a word of it. Then the teenager had stumbled back a bit because  _ Damato knew _ ? It was getting increasingly difficult to catch his breath.

_ I'm on your side here _ , Connor had said before his mini panic attack could mature into something more drastic. The words had eased Hiro only slightly because it raised so many more questions he didn't have the sanity to worry over. Why tell him they knew? Was this a threat? What was Connor planning on doing now? Did he want to help him? If so, why?

And more importantly: what else did he know? 

An image of Tadashi, baseball cap and happy smile in place, flashed through his head and Hiro felt something move inside him. Was Tadashi safe? What about Aunt Cass? His friends? Had something happened while he was wasting away in this derby?

His uneasiness grew, churning over itself in his stomach. It got worse as he worried over his predicament and what it meant for the future, building up and threatening to shoot up his throat like a dam moments before breaking. He tried to swallow it down, only to taste bile and have it rise even higher.

He was in his bathroom not a moment too soon.

His feet were heavier than usual, tripping over each other, but he was able to get to the toilet in time. Gripping the bowl’s brim, he leaned forward and gagged until he felt lightheaded, emptying his stomach clean.

It went on and off for five minutes, the only sounding coming from his retching (the soundproof walls were a heaven’s gift), it all disgusting work. By the end of it, he was gasping for breath, resting his forehead on the toilet's cool underside as his brain attempted to untangle itself; his nose felt clogged, and breathing through it was awkward.

Something that wasn't the faucet went  _ drip, drip, drip _ .

He didn't know he'd closed his eyes until he opened them to see a splatter of red on the tiled floor. Even as he watched, a small droplet fell. Then another.

Hiro cautiously brought a hand to his face, barely keeping it from shaking (and only half succeeding). He touched something wet, so thick and sticky that he felt as though he could go back to puking at any moment, bringing his hand back to find it red. Red like Baymax's suit, red like a lollipop, red like…

Oh no.

Fighting off a wave of dizziness, he reached out and grasped the edge of the sink to his right and, with moaning muscles, pulled himself to his feet. He caught sight of the toilet and his legs almost gave out at the red mixed in with the bile.

He looked at the mirror and immediately wanted to slink away from the sight.

Hiro didn't recognize the person staring back at him. His reflection, looking worse for wear, appeared to be a mere touch away from crumbling into dust and being blown away by a wayward breeze. The first thing that caught his eye was the river of red trailing down his nose, far more than just a simple nosebleed. The paling skin made the blood brighter, as well as make his cheeks look sunken and unhealthy.

He needed Baymax.

It was a natural assumption- a natural response. Baymax was a healthcare companion. Baymax was a nursebot with over a thousand medical procedures under his metaphorical belt. Baymax was capable of diagnosing him, of helping him. Baymax was his friend.

Baymax wasn't here.

Just as the thought settled, burying deep into the folds of his brain, a new wave of nausea rippled through him. His cheeks puffed out and he was hunched over the toilet again, trying his best not to inhale the terrible stench that threatened to overwhelm him.

It was only when he finished and sat back, the tile floor cool underneath him, that Hiro registered the tears. Without thinking he wiped at them, both smelling and feeling the trail of red that now ran across his cheeks like tribal paint. He didn't even twitch, eyes drooping from the exhaustion that suddenly came over him even as more tears came; he leaned back against the wall, tilting his head and trying to breathe over the awkwardness in his throat and mouth.

And that's how he stayed for the rest of the night.


	17. Too Late to Confess, Too Late to Back Out

Baymax found that his self-proclaimed experiment was appropriately timed. Had he not started to identify his ‘moods’ then he may have never discovered that he had likes and dislikes that seemed to come hand in hand with his status. He had a new, smaller experiment that he could discuss with Hiro once he came for the scheduled check up, which would further give him positive feedback. As for now, it was easy to categorize everything in two separate lists.

His likes: flowers, hugs, butterflies, cats, and healthcare.

His dislikes, he deemed, were few: deflation (he wasn’t up to his normal huggable standard) and unsatisfactory patient care.

Now, his current situation had the potential to gift him another one of these dislikes.

Lying.

He blinked at the two people before him, none of his coding preparing him for this kind of dilemma; his creator and primary patient wanted his explanation of his current state as well as his recordings of the past week. Though their queries were logical, it- if he went by the many sources online that supplied everyday phrases used by adolescents- ‘put him in a tight spot.’

He supposed he could label his current internal status with a neutral emotion, but one that leaned more towards a negative denotation in terms of the circumstance: frustrated.

“How much footage did you get from last night?” was the first and much repeated question Hiro asked when Baymax had inflated into existence, face determined and open. Behind him stood the solid support of Tadashi.

The nursebot lifted both arms in an upward movement.

“How can y- wait. Was that a shrug?” His patient stepped closer, eyebrows raised in a way that showed his disbelief. “Did you just shrug?”

“If you are referring to the act of raising one's shoulders in the direction perpendicular to the ground, you are correct. I have shrugged.” Baymax told him, undergoing the action once more to provide an example. “I have determined that it is the best way to represent my ignorance of the situation at large.”

Hiro didn’t respond immediately, opting to stare at Baymax. Then he looked between him and Tadashi, his creator frowning in a perplexing fashion. “What do you mean your ‘ignorance?’ Baymax, I was there, I saw you get trashed. It happened.”

His body had been damaged, that was true. Vocalizing that fact would lead the conversation toward an unwanted topic: how he was repaired in the first place and the reason he had left the household originally. Of all the scenarios that would arise, informing the two of his nightly appointments would prove to be more harmful than helpful.

And yet, validation of a traumatic experience was obligatory to the path towards successful healing. He would be voluntarily refusing to disclose information that would help one patient, only to harm another; such an act was unprepared for, his programming unable to compute an alternative. One patient’s needs had to be put above the other (the conundrum was that, in a very real sense, they were the same patient). Baymax ran an assessment of both patients’ urgency, leading to his decision.

He shrugged.

“No, stop that! You aren’t allowed to shrug anymore!”

He stopped shrugging.

Arms folded across his chest, the adolescent boy said, “Now, come on, let's see what you've got.”

It took three-fifths of a second longer than expected to comprehend the demand; they wanted an explanation of his whereabouts, his current state of inadequacy, and of who had repaired him.

He was in an undesirable position.

“I am sorry, but I cannot do that. It would be a violation on my patient confidentiality agreement if I disclosed any information on individuals in my care, which may involuntarily be threatened by your request.” Hiro had expressed his preference that no other persons know of his health or current status, that going beyond his comfortability level, and Baymax’s programming would not allow him to infringe on that patient-physician trust.

The Hiro in front of him clasped his hands together, the motion supposedly a sign of patience, but the rest of his body language indicated otherwise. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m your only patient here. So show us the footage from last night.”

“That is incorrect.”

“What?”

Tadashi spoke up then, providing an acceptable explanation. “He actually has three patients. I was the first, then Fred at the expo, and then you.” He turned to the robot, hands on his hips, more patient than his brother. “It’s fine, Baymax, you won’t be violating anything if you show us. But, if it makes you feel better, we can just take out your chip and go through it manually.”

“That would be satisfactory.” It was not satisfactory. He had more than three patients filed in his database, more than twenty hours of discriminating evidence and transaction logs of activity that went against him and the trust his other patients had placed in him.

His creator smiled. “Good.”

But, before his chip was evacuated from its place in his port, he enacted an overdrive and disabled that section from his mainframe. The resulting confusion and frustration from the two persons in front of him in response to this action was distasteful, but necessary.

“Hey, bro, I think his port might be busted too,” Hiro said as he tapped the small circle on the robot’s chest.

Tadashi gave a short hum from the back of his throat, running a critical eye over the robot as he stepped forward and tried his luck, only to procure the same results. Baymax soon lost sight of him as he walked around and behind his inflatable form, Hiro following soon after.

While they made work of carefully separating the stitching of his vinyl in order to view his interior, Baymax sent the request to move all information regarding his other patients, including recordings and current diagnoses, from one chip to the other. The request went through and immediately the coding of the data was divided and scrambled, it hidden along with instructions of reassembly in the four separate folders that pertained to his fighting skills.

When all was said and done he allowed his port to be manually opened, blinking innocently at them as they jerked back into his view at the sound of its release, wearing mirroring expressions of surprise.

Tadashi rubbed his thumb along his jaw. “You're right, he is a little out of whack. I guess I'll have to run an entire system check to see what else is on the fritz. Should only take an hour or so… Baymax, at what level of efficiency are you performing at?”

His response was immediate, it taking only half a second to recalculate and reaffirm, “I am currently performing at seventy-three percent efficiency.”

“That's not bad, all things considered, but we'll still have to- what's that?” His creator was looking at his red, battle chip. “That- I don't remember making that.”

“Oh, that's mine.”

Attention deviated from Baymax and onto Hiro. The said chip was taken out of his port, taking with it all data of fighting and the last few days, leaving only medical procedures and three patient studies on file.

Baymax raised his head and blinked.

“It's his battle chip- I downloaded a ton of wicked cool moves on there. Took it from that video of your old sensei- you know, the one that's a complete badas-”

“Hiro.” Tadashi immediately scolded.

The younger didn't look as nearly chastised as he should have been. “Sorry, but you know the one, right? Looks like he's about to fall over at any moment, but could kick some serious butt when he wanted to- like a zombie you thought was dead rising up again, but with karate.”

There was a vocal expulsion of sound as Tadashi unsuccessfully tried to hold in the amusement that was clearly shown in the upsurge of activity in his frontal lobe.

“Hey, Sensei Fuu doesn't look- okay, yes, you're right, he's a little on the old side,” Hiro raised both eyebrows, waggling them, and Tadashi grinned. “But he would have your head if he heard you compare him to the undead, you do know that, right?”

The boy genius tossed the chip in his hand in the air and caught it. “Whatever, nerd. Baymax could totally take him.”

The nursebot, in his usual fashion, offered his view on the situation, “I must object to your statement, as it implies that I would battle against this senior citizen. My protocol forbids me from harming those I may come to see as potential patients and doing so would undermine my primary purpose as a healthcare companion.”

There was activity in their ventromedial prefrontal cortex, as well as a release in dopamine and serotonin. Baymax watched as the two brothers started laughing, Tadashi coughing into his hand in an attempt to pass it off as nothing while Hiro made no attempt to hide his feelings.

“Senior citizen,” Hiro giggled, “that's rich.”

“Senior citizen indicates that the person is over the age of sixty-five,” explained the robot. More activity in the frontal lobe, for what reason Baymax could not understand. “They often suffer from common symptoms: bone and joint shrinkage, thinning hair, dental problems, auditory and visual impairments, diminishing taste buds, and reduced mental and cognitive ability.”

Once again, the robot was perplexed at the sudden hilarity of the moment. He was stating facts, nothing more.

He did not vocalize his confusion, as it may have put a stop to their happiness. A distraction from stressful times was needed, this connection and sibling bonding a larger step in healing. A quick scan showed that Hiro’s brain activity hadn't been this promising in a month.

Perhaps he would download information pertaining to humor and try his circuits in the comedy field- there were obvious benefits in going down that path. He informed the two of the idea and couldn't fathom a logical reason behind their outburst of laughter, this one so intense that Tadashi leaned precariously from his perch on the workbench.

They were still smiling as the green chip was pulled out of him and Baymax shut down.

* * *

It didn't even take Hiro a day to show Tadashi the suits.

The cafe was full with customers, so Aunt Cass had told them that they were not to go anywhere while she was working (though their “grounding” was negated by the fact that she hadn't forced them to help around, instead leaving them free reign in the house). The moment she left them, Hiro was up and dragging Tadashi by the hand to the garage; he was taking their no secrets agreement seriously, not keeping anything from his brother.

“Nice work on condensing, especially on Wasabi’s lasers.” Tadashi spun the holographic image of Wasabi’s soon-to-be gloves, looking at it appraisingly. “He's been trying to do that for the last couple of months.”

Hiro smiled. It'd been awhile since he was able to show his brother his projects, the almost routineness of it nearly being eradicated with their previous argument, but not anymore. Now he was free to puff his chest out and bask in the warmth of the acknowledgment that rushed through him.

He crossed his arms, head held high. “Yeah, I had a few ideas, but this design was the coolest.”

His brother hummed, leaning forward in his seat as he tapped another icon on the screen. The image of Wasabi’s tech was sucked into a labeled folder while a new image, a blocky purse with its own miniature assembly line dwelling within its confines, took its place.

Hiro cracked an eye open and saw what was stealing his brother's attention away from him. “It's a rotating system- each band has the potential to move a complete three sixty orbit, see?” A double tap had the image zooming in, highlighting the parts in question. “It's easier to administer the different chemicals, smoother than having the ball stop at each station.”

Tadashi rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and Hiro could see the light reflected in his eyes. Finally he leaned back, arm draped over the arm of the chair casually, and sent Hiro a lopsided grin. “It’s adorable.”

Hiro pushed him, but Tadashi just laughed.

“No, no, I mean it,” his older brother insisted with a smile, still trying to bat away Hiro's hands. An elbow accidentally hit the keyboard before them and the screen flickered over the designs of an incendiary device momentarily before settling on a simple outline of a yellow disc. “It's all really impressive.”

Hiro heard the honesty underneath all the teasing, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. His voice took a complacent undertone, “Well, I am a genius.”

There's a silence where Hiro can feel himself grow important with his brother's praise, letting it fill and inflate his ego. He was just about ready to inform his brother just how great he and his big brain were when his inner monologue of self-importance was interrupted.

Tadashi nudged him, smirking. “Hey genius, your magnetic pressure is off.”

Immediately, he deflated. “What? No, you can't be serious.” One look at his brother’s face had him searching the screen, spurred by a need as old as time to prove him wrong. Hiro instantly spotted his mistake near the beginning of his calculations, one that would probably call for a recalibration of _everything_. Great stars above, Tadashi was right. “No way. I checked it, like, ten times.”

Hiro didn't tear his eyes away from the screen, but could clearly see Tadashi’s smug face in the reflection. Following not long after was the soft pat of the shoulder and the half sympathetic-half subjective voice that said, “It happens to the best of us, so don't get too worked up by it.”

Hiro could only sniff and actively ignore his brother's teasing laughter. Only when Tadashi offered his own view on the suits, giving viable options on how to tweak the designs, did Hiro drop the act. And it was amidst shooting off ideas on what kind of material would conduct best with Gogo's discs that the younger Hamada realized how easy it was: working with his brother.

It was so natural and so much better than struggling through on his own that Hiro wondered how he had ever managed to go on without Tadashi in the first place.

* * *

When Baymax came back online, his patients were once again standing before him. His internal clock indicated that it was now mid afternoon and he greeted them accordingly.

A quick scan showed that something was wrong, the less than desired hormone levels and fluctuating brain activity being an obvious indicator. “Is everything alright?”

Tadashi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t find anything on your chip. I was worried someone messed with your coding, but nothing's wrong with that either. Everything's in order- exactly how it should be.”

“Shall I run a diagnosis on my servers?”

Hiro shook his head, appearing… unsettled- perturbed and agitated were adequate words his thesaurus supplied. “No, it’s not your system. It's like there's this big hole in your memory, completely wiped clean. You have dates logged from yesterday morning, but it stops there.”

This change in emotional state was drastic. When Baymax had last interacted with him, Hiro was in a happier mood, showing promise. He noted the decrease in cortisol and the stimulation of the left hemisphere, assuming that the inability to find his data was the culprit for this change.

The act of misleading his patient was unwanted, but necessary (still unsatisfactory nonetheless). When he had weighed the options of his decision of withholding certain information he had determined that it would pose neither a negative nor positive problem to Hiro’s progression towards better health, which, in retrospect, was the major reasoning behind his actions. Now, it seemed, that his estimation had turned out to be off. As a robot, he couldn't say he regretted his actions, but he decided that he desired for a future situation that would allow him to properly explain.

Another dislike could be added: the unhappiness of his patient, Hiro Hamada.

“I am sorry.”

The boy looked up, rapidly blinking wide eyes. A smile was formed, one that didn't meet its usual brilliance. “Don't worry about it. It's not your fault.”

Incorrect. The blame sat entirely with him.

“The good news is that we fixed you up. You're good as new, buddy. Oh, and before I forget.” His creator patted his pockets before producing a white chip, on its side written a single word. Unfortunately, the chip was accepted into Baymax’s opened port before his sensors could distinguish what the group of letters spelled out. Instead, he focused his sole processing power to scanning the newly taken files.

He rotated his head to his creator. “Would you like me to override my current programming?”

Hiro turned, alarmed. “Override?”

“Relax,” his creator assured, raising his hands, “it's just some changes I added to make sure nothing like this could happen again.” Hiro visibly relaxed. “Just compile it, Baymax.”

Baymax noted the lie, but did not verbalized his knowledge. A scan of the chip showed that there were no errors, so he went along with Tadashi’s command.

_Attention_ , his screen read, _new software detected. Request to update current system and reset preferences. Commence?_

There was a spark as the action was accepted and a signal sent, parallel with the new information, from the chip into his system. Settings were changed, but only those in the analytical portion of his coding. A new protocol was enacted, primarily focusing on the care of current patients- one in particular rising its way to the top of the list, making it priority to everything else.

Hiro Hamada.

While integrating the new coding into his basic programming, Baymax simultaneously dealt with restoring his green chip as a whole. The hidden information from his battle chip was retracted, unscrambled, and put back into the proper folders. Everything was in order- no breach or unauthorized viewing of any files concerning the information had been undergone.

Current status: relieved.

_System updated_.

* * *

“Mornin’!”

Hiro had time only to look up briefly from the his seat at a bar and spot an over zealous smile before Connor was upon him. God, he wasn't safe anywhere within this place, was he?

“Go away.” Hiro pulled the hood of his jacket up and low over his face, hoping to be left alone.

It didn't work.

“Now, come on, let's not start off the day with an attitude like that.” The freckled man saddled up next to him, leaning cheerfully on the countertop.

“A little late for that,” Hiro grumbled. He hadn't slept a wink last night, only coming down to the first floor because he'd had enough of his room. The queasiness had left, but he was far from feeling in tiptop shape.

“Where's your fan club?”

The teenager shifted in his seat so that he faced away from the man and towards the elevator. His eyes roamed the room and spotted not a hair of the group of children that usually were following his every move, always ready to hassle him with insistent questions on this and that while demanding he play some obscure game with them. “I don't know- probably still in bed if they're lucky.

Maybe it was his voice, or how he shivered a little, or even how tired he looked, but his tuckered appearance was finally noticed. “Oh, hey there, didn’t mean to make you lose sleep.” He was scrutinized, Connor’s expression concerned as he partially rose and leaned over the bar. “If you need any more medicine, don't be afraid to ask.”

Oh, right, the ticket man was also the residential medical practitioner of the roller derby. What a coincidence.

“Like I said before, your secret’s safe with me.” At Hiro’s undignified snort, Connor pouted. “Serious. I've been on your side for a while now. Almost a month, I'd say.”

Now that was just unbelievable, enough so that it had the young genius turning to confront the man. “I had just met you then. How could you have possibly been on my side?”

“I've got my ways.” Que sly smile.

Hiro had never met people like this, playing mind games so seriously and intently without any hint at stopping. No normal person acted like this, he was sure. He scoffed, “Rollerskating assassins, kid samurais, killer sumo wrestlers, and now, psychic ticket sellers. What’s next? Is the bartender over there secretly a cyborg?”

“No, of course not. That'd be crazy,” Connor piped, “but you forgot the Banzai Bombers- the twins would be upset if they heard you not include their family.”

The teenager’s face scrunched up, confusion making him forget his headache (which hadn't let up the entire conversation). “Who are the Banzai Bombers?”

Connor looked to be hiding a smile. “Think ninjas with jet packs.”

“Oh my God, I'm in a nuthouse.” Hiro rubbed at his forehead, trying to smooth out the wrinkles and better absorb the information. “You’re all just a group of highly dysfunctional and morally depraved criminals.”

“I like to think of us more as a highly dysfunctional and morally depraved _family_. Makes it sound more homey, more… normal.”

“Okay, nothing about that is normal.” A finger trailed down his face and started rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Oh man, and I thought my family was weird.”

“I’ve met your family and they're good people, yourself included.” Hiro didn't know which version the ticket man was referring to, but determined that it didn't matter. What did matter was-

“M-my family? How di- nevermind, no, I don't want to know. It'll only make me feel worse.” His head dropped like dead weight into his palms. “God, I'm the _worst_ time traveler ever.”

“Well, to be fair, you're the _only_ time traveler- well, the only one that we know about- but still, you're not doing so bad, all things considered.”

Hiro straightened with a sigh, dealing with the unappealing situation the only way he knew how: sarcasm. “Wow. That really made me feel better- you're one good doctor. A real miracle worker.”

Connor didn't miss a beat, “Oh, I'm not a doctor- I'm a nurse.”

Now that got him thinking of Baymax and how much he wanted his friend there: the nursebot could surely help him, or at least tell him what was wrong. It made him unhappy, the reminder that he was alone. “Even better.”

“Now, enough of that,” the man chided, sounding like a fussing southern mother. It was a dramatic change to Ren's usual rough demand and it drew his gaze. “You're doing pretty good with the circumstance set for you. You saved your brother- oh, don't look so surprised. I watch the news and you and your work aren't that hard to find. And you're on your way of stopping this Yokai fellow, not to mention thwarting Yama. All the while fighting a cold.”

It was almost funny, his referring to what was wrong with him as something even remotely equivalent to the common cold. Last night, where he was tormented with waking dreams of blood and portals, could be labeled as something so… nugatory. But he didn't laugh, for it was a tasteless joke, especially when one was living it.

“Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up. I still have time to screw this up.” He watched as a group of Fujitas in varying stages of disheveledness entered the building and made their way towards the elevator, some carrying skates as they padded on sore, bare feet across his vision. All of them looked how Hiro felt, positively exhausted and in need of some sleep after a long night. “You might be on my side, but, just warning you, it might end up being the losing one.”

“I don't believe that- I'm pretty good at picking out winners and you, my friend, are one.” His companion waved at one of the women when she flapped her fan in a greeting. “You got a great cause and the brains to back it up, but just need the belief. Sure, you got the attitude to bluster through, but it won't get you anywhere if you don't want it.”

“There's no one who wants to stop Yokai more than me.” He knew Callaghan and what the ex-professor was capable of. He knew what was truly at stake.

“That may be true, but can you say that you want it bad enough that you believe you can win against him? That, no matter what, you'll come out on top?” Blue eyes saw his indecision before he could mask it. “See, there. Fix that and you're a shoo-in to win.”

Given what was starting to sound like a mix between a pep talk and lecture, Hiro busied himself with his drink.

It was easy to get lost in the chaos that was this new timeline, easy to lose oneself in their own doubts; doubts of competence and doubts of self, both things he was in excess supply of lately. Of course, he had taken Callaghan on before so this all should be a walk in the park (if he could match Baymax move by move in chess, then he could deal with Callaghan again). So, why was he worrying?

The answer was easy. Because Connor was right and he, somewhere not so deep inside him, didn't believe he could win in this refreshed game. He didn't believe that with these new rules, players and board he didn't have a chance of leaving with the scoreboard in his favor. What if he made a wrong move?

It was just too hard to play without the support of his friends.

Taking a sip from his cup and waiting till the liquid settled safely in his stomach, Hiro started, “You obviously know more about my situation than I do, so why aren't you telling anyone? Why are you… helping me?”

The other man didn't speak up for a while, eyes unfocused as he ran a hand over the length of his jaw. Then his eyes lit up, snapping back to Hiro's face.

“Why did you keep on putting on the suit?”

“What?”

“Why did you keep putting on the suit?” he repeated, leaning forward so that Hiro had to lean back just to keep the distance between them. “Why keep flying around and rangling the baddies? It's not your job- well, it stopped being so once you got here. So, why keep doing it?”

“I don't know, I just- because,” he stumbled through his words, mind sprinting to comprehend what was being asked of him. Tadashi had wanted to help people, so he took on the legacy. Of the two roads he was given, he chose Tadashi’s over Callaghan’s. Simple as that.

“Just because? C’mon, that can't be the only reason.”

“It’s… it’s not.” Hiro felt like he was being backed into a tight corner.

“Then tell me.”

“I don't kn-”

“You just said you did. Well?”

“Because-”

“Why?”

“Because somebody has to help, okay!” His answer, which came off his lips with more ease than one would have expected, was louder than he intended and nearly frightened him out of his boots. “It was supposed to be a onetime thing. Somebody had to help, so I did- but I couldn't just stop, not when I made a difference. How could I stop when I helped a lot of people?”

At the end of it Hiro found himself a little breathless. Breathless and all too aware of the stares passed his way from the other inhabitants of the derby- it was far too early to be dealing with all of this. He hunched over his drink, self conscious of those stares and regretting his outburst.

Connor smiled. “There, now we both have our answer.”

“Both?”

“With pretty words like that how could I not agree?” The man nodded his head sagely as he scooted his chair back, finally giving Hiro some well-needed space. “Look, I know you don't trust me- and I get that, respect it even- but sometime or another you're gonna have to accept that not everyone's out to gut you like a fish.”

There was a lull after that, a silence where those words echoed and filled the air. It left time for the genius to ponder the words, analyze if he could trust what they meant and the person behind them. It was tough- as it always had been since the old wound of Callaghan’s betrayal- to distinguish who was friend and who was foe. (Hell, just making the decision to make a pact with Ren was painfully slow and harrowing, and that was not even breaching the matters of trust.) When Tadashi was alive there was no doubt, everyone deserving the chance to prove their worth.

It had been a long time since he followed that rule.

He unhunched his shoulders, straightening his spine with _crack_ , and tried his luck at a expression not so… wild. “I don't think everyone's against me.”

His companion laughed, “Could've fooled me.”

Hiro almost couldn't believe how good-natured Connor was being, that someone like this existed. Tadashi had been similar, always ready with a smile or a helping hand, but he had known his brother long enough to witness the less than perfect side of him. He had the feeling that he had been being difficult again. “Hey, uh, thanks for not… you know, selling me out.” Once the apology was done and over with, he felt slightly better- not so much like a jerk anymore. “And I might just take you up on that offer…”

Smacking the bar with his open palm, the ticket man stood and clapped his other hand on Hiro's shoulder. “Alright. Let's get you feeling better.”

It wasn't until they're away from prying eyes, passing the intrigued gaze of Ren as they take the elevator up, and the medicine was in his hands that Hiro allowed a particular pair of words to slip past his guard.

“Thank you.”

* * *

The suits were finished by the next day. Honey, ever enthusiastic and optimistic, was the first one to test out her gear.

Her suit had been thoroughly squealed over, with much mushing over the design and the colors ( _Pink is in, you know!_ ). After the excited hug and a kiss that really wasn't necessary but left him blushing nonetheless, Hiro stepped back. “I think she likes it.”

Tadashi smiled, watching Honey punch in the right compound and toss her chem-ball at their ‘Masked Man.’ She giggled and threw her arms around Heathcliff when it turned out to be a success.’ “Oh yeah- but I'm more than positive that enemies don't stand around while you attack.”

“Little steps, big brother,” Hiro nudged him with his elbow, leaning back to mimic his casual stance. “Little steps.”

“A little help?” Honey called and Tadashi laughed at her attempt at tugging the hose closer to a immobile Heathcliff. He left, leaving Hiro to help GoGo click her discs into place.

“Hiro,” Wasabi, already decked out in a green ensemble, began as he stepped out of the house, hand wiping his face, “Fred's having trouble with the suit. I'm not sure how but he put his leg in one of the arm holes and it's stuck now.”

Hiro looked over from where he was crouched next to Gogo, hands securing a clip on her ankle, eyebrows raised. “The body is all one piece, so he's gonna have to get a little flexible cause I can't do anything about that.”

A sigh escaped the large man's lips. “Well, I better go help him then, before he breaks anything- else.”

GoGo eyed their friend from the floor, speaking up before he left, “Are you wearing a cape?” She raised a brow at Hiro, who could only shrug- Honey had liked it.

Wasabi paused and smoothed a hand over the material, self conscious. “Actually, I think it's more of a jacket…”

“It's shiny,” was all Gogo said in response, looking away and leading the burly man to retreat back into the mansion with a deep frown on his face.

“Heathcliff’s ready,” Tadashi announced as he walked up to them, a bubbly Honey Lemon at his side. True to his word, the butler was standing in his designated spot, mask in place and a croissant in hand.

“So are we.” Taking one of GoGo’s hand, he pulled her to her feet.

… where she promptly fell on her butt.

Both Hiro and Tadashi surged forward to help, but a raised hand and a determined expression had them rethinking their offer of assistance; both held out their hands in a gesture of surrender and backed off, watching as the girl picked herself up and, testing the waters, made to get a feel of her new tech. Unsurprisingly, the short girl was soon running circles around the butler like it was her job, gaining speed with not an ounce of fear.

Eventually, Gogo skidded to a stop next to them and tossed Hiro the mask, popping a bubble with the finesse only she could posses.

“That was good,” Tadashi complimented her, offering a thumbs up. Hiro, on the other hand, was a bit more ostentatious (louder) with his appreciation.

"Oh man, that was-"

"Sick." All three turned to stare at the nursebot that had appeared almost silently behind them, innocently tilting his head to the side at their stares. He took in their opened mouth expressions and said, "It is only an expression."

Hiro was the first to recover, smiling big as he lightly punched the robot. "That's right, buddy."

Tadashi stared at the nursebot, eyebrows scrunched, but Baymax had already turned away. Hiro caught the look and raised both eyebrows in a silent question, but his brother merely pressed his lips together in a smile and shook his head, so he let it slip from his mind and turned back to the Korean girl.

“Is there any imbalance on the discs?”

“Nope.” GoGo tossed him one of her discs to prove her point, Hiro barely managing to catch it. She turned to his brother while he fumbled, straightening her shoulders as she did so. “So, how you holding up, Hamada?”

“As well as anyone who's making superhero suits for their friends.”

She nodded her understanding before leaning to one side, eyeing him. “You're taking all _this_ ,” here, she waved a flippant hand to the mansion behind them, “pretty well.” She narrowed her eyes. “Almost too well…”

Tadashi gave a noncommittal shrug. “Fred and I go way back.”

“You know it, bro!” Fred’s head popped out of a random window before the rest of his suit clad body followed in an ungraceful roll, clicking his fake claws with a good-natured grin when he staggered to a standing position. “Alright, ready- let the metamorphosis begin! Little man, do the honors.”

Hiro didn't waste time as he jogged back to the back porch to collect the top part of the costume and, upon returning, lowered it over the eager man's head in a crowning gesture. The wild grin taking up the majority of the comic nerd’s face was soon replaced with the snarling grimace of the mask.

They sat back and watched Fred bounce around in his suit, a whirlwind of flames that yelled at every kick to the sky. “Super jump! Super jump!”

“We're gonna regret giving Fred a flamethrower, I already know it,” Wasabi said as he joined them, shifting from foot to foot as he adjusted his pants with an uncomfortable expression. Gogo nodded, gaze following their nerdy friend as he flipped over a hedge shaped like giraffe.

And, as if to answer the young man's words, Fred whooped again, “I breathe fire!” It didn't seemed like a problem to him that he was setting his backyard aflame- neither to Heathcliff, who simply turned a page in his book and continued reading.

Shaking his head at his friend's enthusiasm, Hiro made to turn on Wasabi’s lasers. The man was extending his arms out cautiously when Tadashi offered a simple, “Nice cape, by the way.”

“Oh tha- wait, are you being sarcastic? Oh god, you're being sarcastic, aren't you?” Hiro made to turn on the lasers again, only Wasabi flailed his hands about and went on before Tadashi could say anymore. “I knew it looked weird. Honey, I can't believe I let you convince me that this was a good choice!”

The girl in question opened her mouth, ready to defend herself, but Wasabi didn't miss a beat in his rambling. “I look like I took a swim in a fountain of sparkles. It's just too much, and not me- I look stupid, don't I? Why didn't anyone tell me?”

Gogo popped a bubble.

Wasabi threw his hands up. “Okay, no, I’m taking this off.”

The man ignored their calls as he made his way back inside, muttering about fashion trends and how impractical they were. When he emerged he gave them all a look that dared them to mention his lack of bedazzled fabric, determinedly marching toward the area set aside for their use where Heathcliff waited with a nonjudgmental expression permanently edged into his face. Then there was no time to talk about fashion choices, not when Wasabi was slicing through menacing tennis balls like they were butter.

Eventually, Heathcliff gave them all a polite clap before excusing himself in search of a fire extinguisher and sunblock, giving them an offhand comment that there would snacks in the kitchen if they got hungry.

Then it was Hiro's turn.

All the struggle he put into getting Baymax in his armor was worth it. He wished he had a camera to capture his friend’s faces. They craned their necks as Baymax towered over them, an impressive sight of blazing red and bulking metal.

But then Baymax ruined it all by chasing a butterfly.

Hiro could feel his rep staggering at Tadashi’s laugh. “Wh-whoa, h-hold up, focus.”

The robot followed his instructions, though his head swiveled just so to keep the insect in sight. Hiro ignored this and the chuckles that began to join his brother's, instead jumping on the balls of his feet and saying, “Show them what you got, buddy.”

Baymax stared at him blankly, tentatively copying Hiro’s pose and raising his arm almost questioningly.

“The fist, show them the fist.”

His cheeks turned pink when the nursebot wiggled his fingers in a mock explosion and, oh God, the fistpump noise was not something he wanted the others to hear (Tadashi was already raising his eyebrows, a bewildered expression lighting his face as he stared at his robotics project).

Hiro laughed nervously, sparing the group a few glances. “No, not that- the thing, the _other_ thing.”

And, thankfully, Baymax understood. There was a small click as the clamps on his hand let go and a sizzle of sparking engines as the entire thing went flying in an epic display of pure awesome. The fact that it pummeled into a lone statue didn't water down the feeling- if anything, it boosted his excitement.

Fred was clapping and crying out a, “Rocket fist make Freddie so happy!”

Hiro had to agree. This was probably the coolest thing he'd ever done.

“That's just one of his new upgrades,” he told them, unable to contain himself any longer. “Baymax, wings.”

“No way.”

There was an appreciative gasp and murmur as they took in the sleek appendages and how they glistened in the sunlight. Keeping this upgrade a surprise from Tadashi was proving to be one of the best ideas he'd had, his brother staring open-mouthed at Baymax 2.0. Then Hiro was skipping behind the robot and climbing onto his back, ready to show them the grand finale.

Tadashi snapped out of his revere instantly, taking a step forward, expression nervous. “Hey, I don't think-”

The kid genius disregarded his worry with an exhilarated laugh. “Don't worry, bro, magnetized grips- this is as safe as it gets. Now, watch this and be amazed. Baymax, thrusters.”

“I fail to see how flying makes me a better healthcare companion,” Baymax intoned, head rotating to look back at the boy while his thrusters came online. They were working just fine, nothing for Tadashi to worry about.

“I fail to see how you fail to see that it's awesome!”

Though it got knocked down a notch on the awesome scale when Baymax fell to the ground suddenly, thrusters spritzing and launching them across the lawn. Hiro let out a surprised yell, which was mirrored by the selected few watching the disaster in the works.

Then, with a final burst, Baymax was shooting straight up and into the sky.

* * *

Hiro was waiting out yet another headache when the kids surrounding him let out a collective yell.

He ignored them, pegging it to be another eagerly awaited fight scene on whatever show they were watching on the television. He remained still, eyes closed with his head leaned back and feet propped up, even as he heard a short squabble about snacks break out. It didn't take long for it to go quiet again, which Hiro appreciated (that being the whole reason he had even agreed to keep them company on the second floor in the first place, knowing too well how enraptured- and silent- children got once in front of a screen).

The silence was something he savored, eagerly letting it surround him. He took a deep breathe, harnessing his inner Baymax and pushing it to calm the steady throb of his forehead.

The medication had done what it could, toning down the pain in his chest and and head to a minimal throbbing. There hadn't been any bleeding since the major incident last night, which was good, but he was still paranoid. The deal between Ren and him was going far better than he expected and he didn't want to ruin it in a moment of weakness (no one needed to know his health status). He couldn't hide the fact that he constantly felt like he was being run over by a freight train- but he could certainly try.

A cheer erupted from the kids stationed around him and he groaned and shifted in his seat, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Hey, guys, can you keep it down?”

But they didn't heed his plea, fidgeting and muttering with enough force that Hiro let his arm slip down and his head tilt forward. Bleary eyed, he peered at them and the device capturing their attention.

They were watching… the news?

The kids’ eyes were plastered to the screen, open mouthed and unblinking. He followed their line of sight and squinted at the television screen

A very familiar red blob was zooming about on the screen.

“Oh no…”

Well, that explained why Baymax hadn't come back the other night.

“Look, Hiro!” Taka grabbed his pant leg and tugged, smirching the dark fabric of his jeans with white powder and other leftover contaminants of their snacks. “A superhero! Just like in one of Sui’s comics.”

He dumbly nodded, “Yeah, I… I see it.”

“I'm gonna go get Ren so she can see.” Mini Fujita was up and out of the room before the teenager could even put in a word of protest.

When the camera zoomed and a small figure clad in a familiar purple getup could be distinguished from the red it took everything Hiro had not to twitch or anything of the like. His eyes didn't stray from the screen, not even when the flying duo momentarily disappeared in a metro tunnel- because, sure enough, with speed and agility that Hiro knew firsthand, his young counterpart and Baymax were shooting out the other end and spiraling around buildings with the grace of a trapeze artist.

The kids inched forward when the pair made like a bullet towards a building, untensing their high strung bodies with a breathy cheer when sleek wings tilted and provided a last minute clearance of the close call.

The elevator opened and Ren made her entrance, Momo and one of the Fujitas at her tail, just as the pair disappeared high above the clouds and out of the camera’s range of vision. The collective all groaned, Momo being the loudest when realizing she had missed the entirety of the show. The girl slumped in a disappointed heap next to Taka, who patted her shoulder with a sympathetic shake of his head while Chip-Boy kindly offered her a powdered donut.

Looking less crestfallen and more annoyed was the derby owner. Hiro knew from experience that Ren didn't like to be bothered about menial things, so she didn't seem too happy at being dragged all the way upstairs only to reap nothing.

She spotted him instantly and her grumpy expression eased up a little. “You look like-”

Hiro raised a hand, stopping her short. He had dealt with Connor already, so he didn't need- or particularly want- anyone else commenting about his less-than-presentable appearance. “Didn’t sleep last night. I was busy.”

Ren took his explanation without argument. She probably thought he’d been going over possible strategies or tinkering with his suit (a lot of it had been extensively damaged, but he could still get something out of it). “My girls got a new job from Yama.” She pushed him back into his chair when he jolted up, a scowl on her face. “Relax, it's a simple heist. They're going to be decoys for the police, keeping them busy.”

“He’s targeting Krei Tech again, isn't he?” Hiro was once again pushed back into his seat, which was starting to annoy him because he couldn't let Callaghan steal more tech and get that much closer to rebuilding the portal.

“Wasn't given the exact details, though I'll be getting them eventually- probably seconds before the time comes to move.” Here she grinned, razor sharp. “Apparently Yama's starting to doubt my competence.”

Squinty eyed, Hiro peered up at the woman. “You do know that's not good, right? That it's only a matter of time before he cuts you off, too?”

She shrugged, unconcerned that she could end up on a hit list for supposedly excessive incompetence. “I've stopped caring. You could say it’s because I've had a change of heart… or a new ace up my sleeve- speaking of which, Connor told me you haven't been feeling well. That being said, if I find out that you went out tonight, I will personally make your life a living hell.”

He filed away a reminder to chew out the ginger, grumbling out a low hiss, “On my side, yeah right. Traitor.”

Threat aside, Hiro was more than positive that he was said ‘ace.’ Though he didn't even know where to begin to decipher what she could possibly mean by that. At this point in time, he wasn't sure how he could be the turning point in Yama’s downfall.

On another note, how could he help dethrone Yama when he was under house arrest? If Baymax were here he would agree, advising the genius to comply with Ren’s wishes and stay put. Still, he made one last attempt, “I think-”

But Ren had already turned away. “Momo, you’re going, too.”

“What? Really?” The blonde sprung up from her seat on the floor, wide eyed and excited. At Ren’s nod, she cheered loudly, “Yes!”

“What?” One of the twins- Aiko, or was it Zuko (at least, he hoped those were their names)?- complained, face aghast as the blonde happily left their little group. “Why does she get to go?”

“Yeah, that's not fair!” The other half of the pair crawled over their sibling’s lap, pouting in the adults’ direction. “Taka got to go last time! What about us?”

Ren looked like she didn't care for their whining, placing a hand on her jutting hip. “Don't care. Go complain to your parents, not me.”

Turning a deaf ear to the complaining that followed, Ren focused her attention back on Hiro. “Time to earn your keep.” A laptop was shoved into his hands by the other Fujita, flipped open for him. Hiro was greeted with the sight of green coding on a black background and numerous windows open with varying formulas and tables. “How good are you at hacking?”

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He thought of his first day here, of Krei Tech and it's lockdown (of how he brought the corporation momentarily to its knees with a desperate mind and simple keystrokes). “Decent enough.”

It must've been the right thing to say because Ren grinned viciously. “Good. It's about time we make Yama pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing in Baymax's POV is probably the greatest.
> 
> School starts this week, so we'll see when the next update will be. Like always, we'll be aiming for two weeks, but we can't be too sure.


	18. A Hitch in the Plan

The first thing Tadashi did when Baymax landed was see that his brother was in one piece and safely on solid ground. Once that was done, Hiro more elated than anything else and breathlessly recounting his journey in the sky, he proceeded to smack his brother.

Repeatedly.

“Wh-Hey! Ow!”

Hiro backed away from him, retreating to the safety of Baymax’s bulky form. The robot made no move to stop the minor act of violence, labeling it as ‘a simple disagreement between siblings’ and ‘harmless’ even as the young boy slipped behind the robot in an effort to escape.

“What is wrong with you?” Tadashi pursued him, finding an opening and landing a good blow on Hiro’s shoulder. “Do you want to get yourself killed?”

“Okay, relax, will you? I was perfectly safe with Baymax. I- we had everything under control.”

Tadashi wanted to snort, not believing for one second that Hiro had planned to blast off the way he did. Anyone with eyes could see that. Instead, he made sure to get in one more punch.

Even rubbing his shoulder, Hiro beamed up at him with an unfaltering smile. “But it was cool, right?”

Safety issues aside, Tadashi had to admit, it was more than a little cool- it was downright amazing. Just one of the many things that his little brother could dish out if he put his mind to it; a proving point to what Tadashi had been saying all his life. Finally, his brother was using that big brain of his and doing something with his life, even if that something was decking out his friends and robotics project in superhero garb with the sole purpose of apprehending a mysterious, masked man. It was a start.

Hiro was waiting for his response, so he relented. “You definitely aimed for flying cats.”

His little brother’s answering smile was worth all the impending grey hairs.

It was then that the rest of their friends came, surrounding the three in a circle of chatter. Fred bounced around them while Honey practically rammed into Hiro, babbling in Spanish.

“ _Dios mío!_ Hiro, we were so worried and scared! It was all so sudden!” She squished him to her chest, lifting him up so that his feet grazed the grass and kicked the air as she swung him about- she took his added weight on her precariously high heels with grace that was both daunting and impressive. “But it was so amazing!”

“Good job, little dude!” Fred danced and shimmied with unprecedented excitement, waving whatever he suddenly had in his hands. Only when he almost hit Wasabi in the face did Tadashi see what it was: a police radio.

“We got a trace on the masked man,” Hiro said then, stopping them short of their little celebration and drawing everyone's attention. His eyes were serious, looking at each of them in turn. “Baymax scanned the city. He's on Akuma Island.”

Akuma Island. A bad of a place as any, if not a bit stereotypical with its rumors and lack of activity.

Gone was the happy mood. Tadashi felt his worry from before start to settle at the base of his stomach, only it was for an entirely different reason. “Hiro, please don't tell me you're planning on going after him.”

“Of course. That was the plan from the start, remember? The whole reason why we made the suits?”

Suddenly, agreeing to help his brother with this crazy project wasn't looking to be such a great idea anymore. It was appearing all too real now; no longer was it just ideas and schematics, but a full fledged course of action- a dangerous reality that looked better on paper.

“I don't think this is looking like a good idea anymore.”

“Why not? We know where he is- we should go now before he has a chance to escape. We have the tech and the information- everything we need to get Yokai.” Of course Hiro wanted to plow right on through, uncaring that they had recently became acquainted with their suits and were still fresh off the boat in the whole crime fighting department. “We can't just let him go.”

“You're right; we shouldn't let him escape,” Tadashi replied, voice even so that his logic might be perceived through his brother's thick skull, “but we can't go in there totally blind.”

Before Hiro could formulate his rebuttal- and sure enough, Tadashi could see the boy's eyebrows furrow and mouth open in a definite sign of its coming- Baymax spoke, dissipating any arguments with a simple, “I agree with Tadashi. It would be best to provide further time to better acquaint yourselves with your newfound skills and suits. The probability of accidental injury lowers dramatically with this precaution.”

Hiro scowled, but, Tadashi saw with interest, didn't speak against the robot’s tentative suggestion. Alternatively he asked, “Fine. Then what do you think we should do?”

Tadashi didn't have an answer for that, unsure himself. What were they supposed to do? They knew where a supposed murderer and arsonist was hiding, but how did that help them? If anything, it made things all the more complicated.

Wasabi, the ever level-headed and cautionary one, said, “I say we take it easy. Get to know the tech like Baymax said. You know, practice.” GoGo and Honey agreed, helping ease Tadashi’s worry on the matter of support.

Fred was the only one who hadn't said anything- odd considering their friend’s usual enthusiasm concerning anything even remotely related to superheroes and the science that made them possible. He was turned slightly away from them, upper torso free of his suit and looking like a reptilian satyr, as he idly played around with the radio. It was only when he uttered a small curse (some reference to an obscure comic no less) when one of the antennas bent awkwardly down that everyone finally gave him their attention and watched as he fumbled with the device.

Honey Lemon winced when he smacked it, as if to bully the thing into working.

Gogo made no outward sign that she was concerned about the abuse done on the radio, but didn't tear her eyes away from the scene and didn't complain when Wasabi pushed into her space to put a helping hand forward. “Hey, why don't you let me…”

“No, no, I got it.”

Even Tadashi made a face when the comic nerd jabbed at the power button repeatedly, the small notch creaking when pushed deeper into its frame. No tech deserved this amount of abuse.

But, finally, after another full minute of tech violence any science major would cringe at, Fred crowed with success. There was a low buzzing noise until nail bitten fingers turned a dial.

_“… pursuing them downtown along Fuwa Drive-”_

“Freddie, what is this?”

A hand waved impatiently in Honey’s direction. “Police reports- they have their own frequency that Heathcliff taught me how to tune in on, but shhh, listen.”

He turned the volume up, status following and swallowing their questions.

_“... suspects look to be women in kimonos on rollerskates. Current charges include disrupting the peace and small thefts of local businesses, leading forces on hand to undergo a chase to apprehend them.”_

Then Fred was grinning at them, eyes alight. “I think I found our test run.”

* * *

 

Hiro looked at the map set before him, eyes burning holes into the paper only to drill deeper into the hard wood of the table underneath it. He took a big breath and exhaled loudly, looking up. “Okay, run it by me one more time.”

He tried not to throw something at someone when multiple sighs sounded out.

Ren had confidently proclaimed that there wasn't any reason to worry about snitches relaying their plans to anyone outside the derby, much less to Yama, so there wasn't any immediate danger of their conversation, no matter how many times it was repeated, being broadcasted- not if people knew what was good for them and kept their mouths sewn shut. And if they didn't, she said, they would have to deal with her- a truly terrifying prospect, Hiro surmised, one that would discouraged just about anyone who knew of the woman's dangerous streak from going behind her back.

“Alright. One more time- for the slow people in the back.”

Then Ren was talking again, slowly explaining to him yet again how the scheduled heist Yama’s people had organized for that very afternoon, most likely directly related to Yokai, was a good thing. This gave them the opportunity to strike back a blow that their adversaries wouldn't see coming and would leave them reeling in its after effects.

“Now, as you know, there’ll be two cars: a decoy and the real one. My girls will be in one and some of Yama's hired help in the other.”

“Yes, yes,” Hiro said impatiently, shifting into a more comfortable position. “I got that. Move on to the important stuff, will you?”

Ren gave him a warning glare. “Don't interrupt. Anyway, like I said, there are two cars. The decoy will head to Krei Tech first and cause a scene.”

“Destroy some tech, scare some civilians, do a little property damage- the works,” Damato chimed in from his spot at the bar. There was a crinkling of plastic and a _pop_ as air escaped a previously sealed bag. Hiro wondered idly where the man had gotten the snack- the kids, probably- and held in his envy when he saw him toss a gummy bear into his mouth. “Basically, they go nuts and draw the police right to them.”

Ren continued where she left off. “Thinking they robbed Krei Tech and fled the scene, the cops, stupid as they are, will go after them. And while they’re tricked into playing a nice game of tag- leaving the building wide open and the tech ripe for the taking- the real car will slip past and enter the stage, actually stealing the tech this time around.”

“After screwing around with the police, which’ll probably last twenty minutes at most, Yama’ll have his men ditch the decoy-”

“Probably thinking to throw my girls under the bus last minute.”

Damato nodded, tapping a small alleyway on the map. “Right, he'll leave it here, on Fuwa Boulevard, and then-”

“And you're sure this is exactly how it's going to go down?” Hiro asked, gaze traveling from one person to the other. “That Yama will double cross you?”

Damato scoffed, giving him a disbelieving look- like he couldn't imagine Hiro being this stupid. “Of course he's going to double cross us. That's how this world works. Someone lets you down, you put them in the ground.”

“Plus, the real car’s not going to make it to Krei Tech, obviously. And there's not a chance in hell I'd let him get my girls.” Bringing out her knife, Ren leaned in and dug a ‘X’ on the highlighted path they'd drawn on the map. “No matter what happens, Yama won't be getting rid of me- not that easy.”

“Okay, that's great and all, but, again, this works only if Yama does exactly what we think he will. Who's to say he won't change his mind or his plan- maybe he won't ditch the car on Fuwa, maybe it'll be at the park- who knows? What I'm saying is that I just don't want any of the information to end up being… misleading. We don't want anyone turning blind out there- this is dangerous stuff and we can't afford to make any mistakes.”

Damato frowned, head inching forward in an almost offended gesture. The empty bag was crumpled and tossed toward the trash bin a few feet away, missing and bonking against its side to litter on the ground. “My sources, and what they tell me for that matter, are solid.”

Hiro raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Hey, I'm just saying it as a precaution. You know, since your… business isn't the most morally upstanding. Don't take it personally.”

“I am not taking it personally.” Yet, despite that concrete assurance, his face said otherwise.

“Oh, don't start pouting,” Ren told him, snatching the bottle of liquor that had materialized in his hands. She didn't look back up as she poured a glass, reaching under the bar and scooping up a few cubes of ice from the built in container and deposited them in the drink, the solid crackling as it made contact. “He's just telling it like it is. The broker business can be as crooked as they come. Everyone becomes a snitch if it means saving their own skin.”

The other sniffed, tossing his head away. “None of you had a problem with my methods before and I'm not sure why you're all choosing today to start.”

The genius shook a hand in refusal at the drink offered to him, suppressing the reflexive need to screw up his face at its strong smell. “Maybe because I'm more than positive that Yama’s going to be furious when this all blows over and angry people usually don't make the best decisions, especially when concerning those who are trying to put him behind bars.”

“True,” Ren said, taking a sip, “but angry or not, Yama’s predictable. He'll want to get back at anyone who's wronged him, so you can count on the fact that he'll take my girls as bait.”

“Yeah, okay, see, there's the problem right there,” he spoke up, shoulders raising as his hands cupped the air and jabbed them in her direction. “He'll know it was you who robbed him, no doubt about it. What's stopping him from coming here and dealing with us right after?”

“I have contacts that’ll stop that from happening.” Once again, the amount of- or lack of caring that Ren gave off about a possible attack on her place was undaunting.

If Hiro didn't know better, he would've thought that she'd planned all along to go through with Yama’s scheme and play the part as decoys, only to double cross him and take what was his behind his back. Except, he was starting to wonder if this plan was too complex and a simpler solution was out there. Something was bound to go wrong, too many variables and possibilities that could go awry.

“Did you get any leeway on your side?”

Hiro was pulled out of his revere at the question, which seemed to be directed at him. Blinking stupidly until it was repeated a second time, he gave an apologetic smile. “Do you mean on the surveillance or the accounts? I finished both a while ago.”

Eyebrows rose past hairlines. “Both?”

Now he held back the eye roll that was aching to be done, reaching into one of the bags on the floor and bringing out the laptop he'd been given and sliding it across the table. He tried to not become all high and mighty at their disbelieving glances- as if he had any trouble. “Check it.”

Ren and Damato shared a glance. “And you didn't run into any… problems.”

This time Hiro did roll his eyes. They needed to have more faith in his intellect, seeing as he was a genius. Hacking (deceiving in general) was one of his better skills, one he had years to hone and perfect. “Please. Their security was nothing- child's play really- and don't even get me started on their firewalls. And Yokai- well, him and Yama, they won't know what's happening until it's too late. And by the time they find out, we'll hopefully have Yokai at a disadvantage and Yama behind bars. They'll already be at rock bottom.” Hiro made a falling motion with his hand, adding a lengthened whistle for more effect.

He could see that his words had brought grins to his companion’s faces, unintentionally encouraging as they were (a complete one-eighty from his spoken doubts seconds before). The feeling was familiar, reminiscent to days spent giving speeches to his team and citizens alike in need of support, to pressing situations where one's resolve needed fortifying and their courage inflamed. A good team needed a good leader and a plan to match.

Hopefully, everything went according to this plan.

* * *

 

 

Hiro tried to stifle the smug feeling at the sight of stunned faces staring up at him as Baymax rocketed by. Now was not the time to bask in his accomplishment (he could always do that later, with Tadashi around), there being more important things to deal with as of currently.

He had some bad guys to put away.

“Are all the communicators working?”

There was the affirmative from each of his friends, an echo buzzing in his ear a millisecond after their initial response; it was a small reminder of cogitation that had been easily neglected. One thing he hadn't really planned for, the necessary room for Baymax to carry everyone; Honey was settled next to him on Baymax’s back while Fred and Wasabi hung from the robot’s arms below. Gogo had rejected the offer of a ride, instead preferring to become even more acquainted with her new tech and struggle to keep up with the robot's rockets on the ground.

“ _Ditto._ ” Tadashi’s voice was loud in his ear.

His brother was somewhere on the ground, camping out in the safety of Wasabi's car- far away from the upcoming trouble. They had all agreed that, without any suit, Tadashi should not- would not be participating in their supposed test run. It was such a risk and they all felt so strongly about the idea that Tadashi didn't even try to argue against their unanimous decision, even though they had done so without consulting him. He was a possible casualty that they just weren't willing to let slide.

“Everything okay on your side?” he asked his brother, leaning forward to glimpse at the robot’s optics, as if he would see any malfunctions past the plating of the helmet. “Is Baymax’s feed getting through?”

“ _Everything's working perfectly._ ” Baymax rotated to look at the genius’ direction before focusing back on his flight path. “ _According to my map you should be right above the police in a couple of seconds.”_

Baymax veered left and bypassed two skyscrapers, red armor reflecting off the buildings’ gleaming surface. As if they passed an invisible barrier, the noise hit them like a pickup truck. On the other side of the building was utter chaos.

Hiro took in the scene playing out before him. “Are you guys seeing this?”

Below them was a car chase that looked to be one from an action movie, one that had escalated to include half of San Fransokyo’s mobile unit. Hiro could hear the sirens even from such a height and could see the colored lights weaving through traffic after a dark blob.

“Is that…” Honey leaned forward to get a better view past Baymax’s wings, gripping Hiro’s upper arm for a more stable hold.

“Tako’s Tacos!” Fred sounded more horror-struck than confused, pointing at the car- or, more importantly, the logo branded on the car’s side- with something akin to betrayal. “I knew there was something fishy about their peanut butter and tuna carnitas!”

Hiro ignored Wasabi’s mini-gag and Honey’s small, “Ew, gross- peanut butter?”

“It's just the getaway car.” He highly doubted the beloved franchise was in cahoots with Yama, but, then again, who was to say it wasn't.

 _“There hasn't been any direct confrontation yet_ ,” Tadashi mused aloud, “ _and I don't see any women on skates.”_

“This isn't what I meant by taking it easy,” Wasabi complained from beneath Baymax, clutching the robot’s arm like a lifeline. “Honestly, I'm just about done with car chases.”

Hiro silently agreed. He'd been dealing with far too many car chases in the past month- one was enough for a lifetime. “C’mon, guys. It'll be a piece of cake.”

From beneath him, Wasabi bemoaned about how their definition of easy differed considerably.

“Do you think you can get through to one off their MDTs?” Hiro asked, watching the truck take a sharp turn down a one-way street and undergo enough close calls to leave him tense, itching to do something for the people that were in danger as it slipped onto the sidewalk. Any information they could get their hands on would be helpful in deciding their next move; the faster they learned more of the situation, the quicker they could get the truck off the streets.

 _“Already on it.”_ Hiro was surprised to say the least; it wasn’t that he thought Tadashi couldn’t tap into the police’s computers (he himself had done it not too long ago just to see if he could), but the fact that his brother had been so quick to agree. Tadashi knew when to break the rules, that was true, but willingly hacking into police files? Scandalous. _“Apparently the truck was stolen earlier today. Someone spotted it leaving Krei Tech about half an hour ago where a robbery was reported a few minutes ago. The authorities don't know the exact amount that was stolen- about two million in tech, at least.”_

“At least? Wow, they work fast.” Honey sounded impressed. “I wonder how they knew which tech to get.”

“ _t says here that there are only two suspects in the truck- two men, middle aged, armed._ ” Hiro heard the uncertainty rising up at the last part. “ _I don’t know about this, you guys, this looks pretty serious…”_

“ _Woman up, Hamada_ ,” Gogo demanded, zigzagging through traffic below them.

“Let’s get this party started!” Fred yelled, freeing himself from Baymax’s grip when they went into a shallow dip. Without fear, he plummeted towards the ground below, a fading echo of “Bombs away!” trailing after him.

“Freddie!” Honey called as Hiro and her peered over Baymax’s shoulder. They sighed in unison as he safely landed on a rooftop before jumping after the cars, hollering his moves all the way.

That was one way to go at the problem, Hiro supposed.

" _That was both alarming and awesome._ ” Wasabi whimpered at Tadashi’s statement, not at all finding any of this amusing.

Hiro pointed forward and asked Baymax to fly in closer, the robot angling downward with a small increase of thrust power in response. Now they could readily see the confused and awe-filled faces of the police giving chase as they snuck looks to the air, half focused on the chase and half focused on the miracle in the sky. It also put them, in all their armored glory, in the view of the getaway car; the driver must have finally spotted them in his rear view mirror because the vehicle swerved when Baymax came within a few hundred feet of it. Then once more when Fred bounced across its front, barely missing being ran over as his claws ran tantalizing across its hood.

“Wasabi, why don't you-”

“I am not letting go of this arm until we are safely on the ground and I'm not in danger of falling to my immediate death, thank you very much,” came the squeal, biting like the wind that rushed by them. “And nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”

Hiro sighed. “Baymax.”

Then there was an even more alarmed squeal as the robot lifted its captured arm over his head, a very frantic Wasabi attached to it, in response to the boy's implied order. With a maneuver that was made with precision and everlasting care, the green clad man was deposited on the robot's back on Hiro's other side.

“Better?”

Wasabi pressed a hand to his chest, heaving dramatically, and didn't resign himself to give an answer.

Looking away from his friend and his show of restarting his heart, Hiro watched Fred snatch an unfortunate citizen from the car’s line of sight, the women screaming loudly at the ghoulish mask, and dump her on an obscure rooftop. He nodded to himself, eyes flickering this way and that as his mind tried to process all the information and make a gameplay they could follow.

However, it was just as he was gathering all the pieces together that he noticed something wrong with the chess board and the layout it was set up in- a small, but very noticeable, gap in this confounding puzzle. A key player was missing.

The masked man was nowhere to be seen.

Hiro wanted to bang his head in frustration at the lack of black (not so much as an inch of it). He thought that maybe the masked man would use this time to come out and from this height they would be able to spot him. Spot him and take him.

“He's not here,” he declared bitterly to the others, not even trying to hide his frustration. They knew who he was referring to. “He must still be on the island.”

Honey clicked her tongue as she twisted besides Hiro to looked behind them at the distant mass of land, the wind catching her hair and whipping it around them. “This doesn't make sense. Wouldn't Krei want to do something? Like be here to stop this- I mean, it is his company being stolen from.”

“ _I_ _t doesn't matter_ ,” was Gogo's prim tone and if Hiro squinted just so he could spot the flash of yellow criss-crossing through the traffic underneath them. “ _Yokai isn't here, but we are- and we're the heroes or whatever, right? Then let's act like it_.”

The boy opened his mouth to respond to the scolding when, all of a sudden, the getaway car’s window rolled down and a hand extended out, gun pressed snugly in its palm.

“Watch out, Gogo!” Honey yelled, knuckles going white as they gripped Baymax's armor.

But Gogo had already fallen back and was behind the runaway truck before her potential attacker could aim, throwing a disc just as she left their range. The yellow disc sliced through the air, curving in an arc that led directly to the outstretched hand; there was a yelp of pain and the weapon was dropped, lost as it cluttered to the ground already a few hundred feet behind them.

Sure hands caught the disc mid air; their friend was bent low, gaining speed to find herself parallel to the truck once again, reaching through the open window and snatching the offended hand. With a pull and a snarl, the man was dragged along with it, right through the opened window. The criminal was then deposited safely in a local trash can, top spinning comically on his befuddled head.

The entire thing took about ten seconds.

 _“Woah…”_ came the breathy voice of his older brother in his ear, sending chills down Hiro's spine. _“That was…”_

 _“Awesome! Girl, you killed it!”_ Fred finished, pushing another civilian out of the way.

 _“Yeah, yeah, whatever,_ ” Gogo muttered, listening to Tadashi’s directions and catching up to the car with ease. Though she did high figh the comic nerd when he bounced next to her and offered a clawed hand.

The moment was ruined when gunshots whizzed through the air, scaring them into immediate action.

Gogo and Fred threw themselves in opposite directions, taking shelter from the aim of the getaway car driver and where he leaned out of the window. A police car windshield was hit, hard glass cracking and shattering when a second bullet made contact, and the entire vehicle swerved before crashing into a fountain. Honey and Wasabi gasped at the scene, craning their heads to keep the totaled car in sight even as Baymax increased elevation to keep them out of range.

“We gotta stop this before someone gets hurt.” Hiro said, eye twitching when there was return fire from some of the police.

“Civilian concentration has decreased dramatically.” Baymax told them, head pitching downward to take in the landscape; they were nearing the docks. “However, despite the lowered probability of civilian casualty, it would still be in our best interest to bring this chase to a stop.”

Hiro agreed, thinking that the sooner they finished here the sooner they could go and get Yokai. Doing some quick thinking, he asked, “Honey, do you have anything that can stop it, even slow it down? Something sticky, I guess.”

She nodded. “Methyl cellulose.”

“Good. I'll leave that you.” He turned to his other side, body feeling the slight increase of acceleration and noticing how they were overshadowing their target. “Wasabi, I need you to cut their tires- Gogo and Fred will help you. We have to cut them off and give Honey a good shot.”

“ _If you're going to do something, better do it fast. There's an undocumented boat at pier four- super suspicious- and I have a feeling that that's where they're headed,”_ Tadashi warned them, _“You have… what, ten minutes?”_

Wasabi was the first to find a flaw. “Wait, wait. How are we going to get down there- Honey and I are kinda stuck without my car.”

Here, Hiro grinned. “Not a problem. Baymax, if you please.”

Then he was activating his magnet footholds and pressing himself close to the robot's back, securing himself even as Baymax’s wings tipped and they slowly rotated. Wasabi screamed at the sudden turn of events, hands desperately scrambling to find purchase and security on the smooth red armor, only to find none. Hiro watched him fall, both apologetic and amused by the young man's irrational fear, pleased to see his impromptu calculations of trajectory to be accurate as his friend hit the car's roof less than ten feet under them.

Honey, on the other hand, looked more surprised than scared as she tumbled through the air. However, it took only a moment for her to get her bearings, unexpected laughter ripped away by the wind as she twisted midair and threw a freshly made ball; she landed with a soft _glump_ , hand outstretched immediately to take hold of Fred as he shot by.

“Alright, Baymax, let's go.”

When they were upright once more, the blood rushing from Hiro’s head, the nursebot drew back and even lower. Low enough that when two giant arms reached out they made contact with the back of the car, armored fingers digging into metal and pulling upward.

It was when the back tires were lifted off the ground and Wasabi leaned over precariously to make a stab at the rubber, putting this rudimentary plan into action, that there was a low hissing in Hiro’s ear. A moment passed where he realized it wasn't coming from his side of the radio.

There were five different voices imploring of Tadashi's health, not one of them being Baymax.

 _“It's nothing… well, it's not nothing, it's definitely something. And I don't think…”_ Silence slipped it's way into the conversation, emphasizing the scramble of words that made up his brother's speech and the dramatic three-sixty at his next words. _“Change of plans. I'm ditching the car.”_

“What?” Hiro asked, head turning and looking to the ground as if he could spot his older brother in the masses. He could hear all of his friends start to say something, already catching on to the significance of Tadashi’s words. “No, wait. Stay there, we'll-”

_“It's alright. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just stick to the plan. I just have to look into something real quick.”_

“What's so important that you have to leave the car? Seriously, Tadashi, stop and think-”

 _“I'll tell you later, I promise, but I gotta go now.”_ There was the barest hint of urgency in his tone. _“I'm going to have to go on radio silence- I'll contact you when I can.”_

“Tadashi. Do not-”

There was a short beep and the line was dead.

“Tadashi has turned off his communicator,” Baymax informed him, doing a roundabout around a smaller skyscraper to evade the few gunshots that reached them.

Hiro didn't answer, only pounding his fist against Baymax’s back.

Unfortunately, they didn't have the time to think more on the subject of Tadashi and his unscripted leave. For at that moment the car took a sharp turn, throwing an stunned Wasabi off in a flurry of screams and swinging blades.

Baymax's head swiveled to watch the young man crash against a wall, arms splayed out as he slumped to the ground, motionless. But Hiro, all too aware of the nursebot's necessity to be present and active for the plan to pull through, patted the robot’s helmet and pointed forward ardently. “Baymax, focus! Gogo, check up on Wasabi!”

The Korean girl didn't hesitate to follow the order, making a giant turnabout and speeding back the way they had come.

“Honey, it's now or never!”

The chemist answered his call, appearing in Fred’s arms as he bounced over a store awning and onto the car roof, stumbling only slightly when a scaly foot overshot it and almost took a dive into unforgiving asphalt; thankfully, he regained his balance just in the nick of time, going down to one knee when accelerating tires rolled over a speed bump. _“Woah, the movies make this look way easier…”_

Then a face was peering out and up of the driver side, brows furrowing as the criminal raised a gun and prepared to aim.

“ _Don't point your gun at my friends, please. It's not nice_.”

A chemical ball was thrown across Hiro's vision, its arch perfect as it made its mark at the same time Baymax loosened his grip. Pink goo set when it made contact with rubber tires and the friction they were producing, the van’s front ramming into it and flinging Fred headfirst across the street and through the window of a small, deserted bakery. Honey Lemon was more lucky in her evacuation, landing in a purplish goop that moved like a waterbed.

A screeching noise, of metal scraping and tires skidding across asphalt, erupted into the air as the car came to a halt. The driver’s yell was abruptly cut off short, the horn playing out when his body jerked against the steering wheel, then lay limp.

Not the neatest of wins, but considering how new they were to this hero business, it wasn't that bad.

Baymax’s feet made a resounding _thud_ as they touched ground, jostling Hiro on his back. The nursebot inquired about the criminal’s health and mentioned for their likely need of care, but the genius dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand, saying that the police would arrive in no time and deal with it themselves.

He spotted Honey pulling a very jumbled Fred from the wreckage, looking behind them- where they had last seen Wasabi and Gogo- with a worried frown.

It was that frown that had that nagging feeling from before returning, only this wasn't because something was missing from the chess board. Rather, every piece was right where it was supposed to be, doing what is was supposed to, falling into its designated niche.

It was a fixed game.

“This was a diversion…” he breathed, knowing he was right the moment the words left his lips. “It's a diversion! Baymax, set coordinates to Krei Tech!”

Baymax did what he asked, rocketing up and performing an effortless loop, putting the mess behind them. A small change in direction and they were on their way to the million dollar building, where Hiro knew the real action was.

“Guys, catch up when you're done.”

He ignored their calls for him, turning away from them and focusing on what- or who was undoubtedly awaiting him.

* * *

 What he was doing was insane.

His life had long ago taken a strange turn, and he had started to come to terms with that, but now, in the time of the present, he was actually directing it toward the crazy. He wasn't just attracting trouble, but actively seeking it out.

He was more than positive that the masked man had gone this way- or at least what he thought was the masked man. At first, he had thought his eyes were fooling him, making the shadows slither past the car when everyone was running in the opposite direction, but then it had gotten exponentially darker in a matter of seconds.

He'd hurriedly closed his laptop and awkwardly slid down from the seats and onto the floor. It was cramped and uncomfortable, but worth it when a horde of black had suddenly passed by the car’s side in waves. Tadashi held his breath, hearing clicking on the other side of the door through the cracks. Eyes widened when the entirety of the car shifted, making him feel like he was inside a giant snow globe that an excited child had started shaking.

Then it was over.

The moment he comprehended just what he had happened, he was out of the car and into the streets.

Pressing himself against the wall, Tadashi took a well-needed, deep breath, steeling himself. It had been his choice to leave the safety of the car and venture out into possibly dangerous territory. Even so, he kept quiet, more than sure that he didn't want to attract any unwanted attention (he had a bounty on his head after all), his eyes following along the curb for any hint of an unnatural black trail.

His perseverance was soon rewarded, spotting something by the sidewalk, stuck between the cracks. He squinted, trying to see past the slowly fading daylight. There was definitely something there and whatever it was, it was as small and twitchy as a grasshopper; blending in with the damp asphalt, it barely caught his attention (years of busting his brother sneaking sweets into their room had prepared him, and his attention to detail, for this moment).

Getting closer, he saw it a little clearer and as he did, he didn't hesitate to pick it up.

A microbot struggled in his grasp, twitching in his palm, exactly as he remembered. It really was his brother’s stolen tech being used against them- that wasn't to say he didn't believe Hiro. Quite the contrary, he didn't doubt him for a minute, knowing Hiro wouldn't lie about something this drastic. Still, it was one thing to hear about it and another to see it.

He could feel it move in his hand, an invisible string tugging it forward. No, not an invisible string- the electromagnetic pull of the other microbots and the neurotransmitter sending them orders.

He'd lost sight of the masked man, but that didn't necessarily mean he had lost him. This microbot, small and alone as it was, was more important than it led on.

Checking his bag out of paranoia, he rummaged through it; tucked away in its folds was his laptop, car keys, a small first aid kit, a pair of earphones, phone and communicator. Good. If anything happened, and a quiet part of his mind assured him it would, at least he would have everything important on him and could call his friends for help.

For the next ten minutes, he followed the pull guiding his hand, getting actively farther away from Wasabi’s car and the safety net of society. It wasn't long until the streets got dirtier, more ads and papers blanketing the ground than lining the walls, the overall feeling leaning more towards a danger zone rather than the suburbs he was so used to.

On edge as he was, he didn't see the cat until it was too late and he had somehow stepped on its tail. With a yowl as scratchy as nails dragging down a chalkboard, the cat whirled on him and swiped, claws raking his ankle before it sprinted off into the shadows. Tadashi, for his part, merely let out a startled yell, feeling as if his soul had risen out of his body and ascended to the afterlife. Unfortunately, the scare had him dropping the microbot in his hand, the little thing tipping onto the ground and shuffling away with its limited (but surprisingly fast) motility.

Uncharacteristically, he cursed.

Now how would he find the masked man? He wouldn't be finding another microbot on the ground any time soon. Not a second time, with no moonlight and proper streetlight to help him see.

Instead, he crouched close to the street and cocked his head to listen for any hint of microbot.

Off to his right, faint scraping against concrete directed him forward; it was almost lost as the metro line passed over the bridge five blocks over, but it passed and he continued. He stopped when the sound vanished, surprised. Looking up, he realized he'd reached his destination.

“The… Flower Garden?” he said out loud, neck craning as he read the glowing sign. Nothing else seeming remotely open, it was clearly where the microbot had been heading.

He was debating on whether to go in or not when there's a clash of sound from behind him, causing the young man to jump. He turned, spotting figures in the shadows.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He was definitely positive that that irrational aggression was directed at him, seconded by the threatening way the unidentified people were stalking toward him.

A split decision had him making a beeline for the alleyway that sidled next to the building. Whatever the men wanted, it wasn't to have an idle chat about the benefits what recycling could do for the neighborhood. They were dressed in dark clothing, had bulging muscles, and supported strict expressions; Tadashi would bet money that their current activities weren't exactly morally upstanding.

He had made it to the dumpster by a side door when his foot caught against something. He stumbled into old, discarded signs propped against the building’s side, palms scraping against the rough texture.

Picking himself up, arm stinging with unbridled pain, he made a reminder to get his body back to normal strength- this whole damaged and useless thing was getting old fast. He was halfway through setting his hat upright when he caught sight of what had been the cause of his unplanned fall.

Close-eyed and relaxed, a stranger's face peeked out beneath an overthrown arm.

A person. He had tripped over a person- one of the three sprawled on the ground in the back alley behind a roller derby. His first reaction was to kneel down and see if they were alive; the urge was halted a second later when he spotted a knife dangling limply in the hold of one of the bodies. There had been a struggle.

The underside of San Fransokyo had never been safe, but finding three bodies knocked out cold? It was a little unnerving, to say the least.

Tadashi gingerly stepped over the nearest one, a woman with a enormous bruise coloring her temple. What had happened here? He let his eyes roam, trying to find an answer as to why he stumbled upon this mess.

Down the alley, a van with a blown tire was parked crookedly.

Footsteps reminded him why he was there in the first place, spinning to be face-to-face with angry men. They looked between him and the bodies on the floor, Tadashi easily seeing their thought process. This was as discriminating as it came.

“Oh no, it's not… not what you think. No, I-I didn't do this.”

The snarling expressions of the ogres and trolls graffitied on the walls mirrored the men's.

“I don't see anyone else here.” As a group, they advanced, herding Tadashi further into the alley. Any farther from the street and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get back, the dim light closing in and sealing the pikes in his dark coffin.

He'd intimidated bullies and the like, but had never resulted to using violence- it simply went against the code he had attached to his life. Now, in this situation, with scary men and raised fists promising pain, it looked like attacking others was only the option left. Either that or taking the beating and whatever came of it. “Look, I know what this looks like, but can we just not do this?”

The front of his shirt was wadded tightly in the other man’s fingers, pulling him forward. Tadashi gripped the man’s wrist, putting on his best stoic face; there was no way he'd let himself be pushed around by thugs. Usually, he wasn't one to fall back onto violence as a means of a solution, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

But it didn't come to that.

His savior came in the shape of an umbrella hitting the man in the face.

Tadashi watched as the man went down heavy, a cursing mess at his feet sprouting blood from his nose. He stumbled back, away from the girl who had suddenly materialized partially in front of him, swinging her umbrella like a prostar athlete.

“Well, look at what we have here…” Tadashi’s chest felt hollow at the new voice coming from behind him, one that sounded too grated to be that of a good samaritan helping out someone in need. Two figures slunk past him and he cringed at the accidental brush of shoulders.

“We must've missed them.” The shortest shouldered her umbrella, backing to stand with the newcomers. With her, a grand total of three women stood between him and the thugs, all of them in skates and kimonos.

“If anyone's starting a fight on our turf, it's going to be us,” the tallest one proclaimed, grinning like a shark before its next meal. “What do you say, boys? You up for a fair fight?”

Apparently not, Tadashi assumed, as they took one look at who joined the party and bolted. Grown men, armed, fleeing at the sight of three slim women, one of which barely came up to Tadashi’s shoulder. Even the man that had been floored choked back his insults and scrambled to get away, leaving Tadashi wondering what had happened.

“Aw,” the one in dark red complained as the last of the men rounded the corner and was out of sight. She flexed her arms, the painted waves and koi fish on her right one moving in uncanny lifelike motions, as she flipped the hair framing her face, dyed purple, over her shoulder. “ _Lame_.”

“This isn't a game, Aji,” the tall one scolded, straightening her back and shoulders, slim eye glaring down her straight nose. “This is business.”

“Check the cargo.” The order came from the smallest of the three, which was immediately followed. Nails, far longer and sturdier than anything he had ever seen before, pried open one of the containers and gave them all a good view of its contents.

Microbots filled the crate, the same going for the other two when they were opened. The fourth held a clutter of tech, gray and smooth and brand new; painted on its side, a red sparrow.

Tadashi gasped.

That was possibly the worst thing to do, he realized a second later as three pairs of eyes zeroed in on him. He tore his eyes off of the crates, instead offering a small wave and an awkward laugh that faded off as the staring continued.

“Oh, I, uh- wow, this was a bad idea. Sorry to interrupt,” he started, glancing the way he had come and then back. “I'll just, ah, be going.”

“Wait…”

He stopped, almost unwillingly as the tallest of the women stalked forward, searching his face for something. Then she narrowed her eye, lip curling in such distaste that made Tadashi nervous to the pit of his stomach.

Quick as a viper, her arm struck out, pulling off his hat in one fluid motion.

He jerked in response, involuntarily wincing at the mere idea of the movement of her hand, and found his voice, “Hey, don't- give that back!”

But the intimidating woman didn't listen and let the headwear fall to the ground. Turning to her companions she hissed, “Look.”

“Hey, you look familiar…” A face was thrust into his personal space, causing him to back into the circle of light provided by the street lamp. Unnaturally wide eyes flickered across his face, unblinking even as blue painted lips stretched into a big smile. A hand littered with bandaids took his jaw in its grasp, angling his head so that it faced upward and directly into the light, giving cause to squint. “Ooh, he's cute!”

“He's from the hospital,” the short one said, sounding as if the information wasn't at all significant. “The one Yokai wanted dead.”

Tadashi jerked back, slapping the nonconsensual hand away, and the woman let him. He shook himself free from her, straightening his cardigan and eyeing the three. His gaze flickered to the slumped bodies on the floor around them, with their dull and dirty rags, and then to the bright outfits swaying in front of him.

Despite his best efforts, his voice still trembled as he said, “I don't know you or anything about Yokai, so if you'd just let me go…”

There was a bark of laughter, crazed and rough. “You may not remember, but we do. You're the reason Ren's new pet attacked us- and like hell am I letting that insult slide.”

The bored one looked at her fingernail. “In his defense, it's only because we tried to kill _him_ ,” Tadashi winced at the jab in his direction- despite the lack of any negative intent toward him from the woman, he found her the most unnerving (multiple skulls adorning her outfit, drawing his gaze), “especially after we promised we wouldn't.”

Heart hammering in his chest, he took another step back, nearly tripping on a discarded beer bottle. “You… you tried to kill me.”

It wasn't a question, nor did it need an answer. Nonetheless, the giggly one gave him a childish thumbs up with a chipper, “You got that right!”

These women had tried to kill him and now he was standing in front of them, defenseless, on their turf.

He was such an idiot.

Out of sudden fear and desperation he quickly snatched up the forgotten crowbar between them, while he put on a brave face. “Don't come any closer!”

Sure, his arm wouldn't be up for full on fight, but all those years of baseball would ensure that he had at least one good swing in him. Then he'd fall back on karate, if that's what it came to; these women had certainly proved that violence was imminent, enough reason for him for the need to retaliate.

“Oh, that's adorable! Look, Tsubaki!” The middle one giggled as she mimicked his pose with her own weapon, elbows wiggling comically. “He's spunky!”

He'd show them he wasn't an easy target.

Just as he was tensing his muscles in preparation to give it his all, a figure bursted from the shadows, outlined by the dim lanterns hung above the buildings archway. Then Tadashi was being shoved back, mysterious person bravely standing in between him and the dangerous women without a hint of fear.

“Back off!”

Tadashi blinked rapidly, eyes zoning in on the back of his savior as he lowered the crowbar for a moment. He took in the medium stature- just a few inches shorter than him- and the tense shoulders, watching as they shifted into a basic fighting stance, fists clenched and feet evenly apart. His clothes, an unassuming black jacket and jeans, gave no clue of recognition (another rescue by another stranger).

The voice was a low growl, menacing and… familiar?

“What do you think you're doing? Get away from him.”

The tall one snarled, left foot inching forward. “What are we doing? What are _you_ doing? We're just doing our job and you're getting in the way. So, move.”

“Yeah,” the giggly one said, “butt out.”

The street lamp above them flickered and buzzed, throwing the group in a dull and gruesome light in the fading glow of dusk. Tadashi couldn't peel his eyes away from the weapons in their hands- especially the spike bat that was casually swinging in a gentle arc parallel to his face; he raised his makeshift weapon once more.

“Your job was to get the crates from Yama's lackies, not beat up whoever happened to pass by,” his savior said, hood shifting from where it sat on his head when he nodded back toward Tadashi; he caught a glimpse of dark hair framing smooth cheeks before the shadows took over once again. “I was there when you got the orders, Tsubaki, so you can't lie to me. I know your orders and now I'm telling you to back off.”

Painted lips curled. “I don't take orders from you. Ren-”

“Ren would agree with me,” the other interrupted, voice hardening in such a way that Tadashi was sure the temperature dropped a few degrees. “Unless you want to try your luck and go against me.”

The air grew thick and tense and Tadashi thought it was going to come to blows at any second.

But then the third women snapped her parasol shut and straightened. “No, I'd rather not.”

Outraged, the tall one stomped a foot and sent a blood chilling glare to her companion as she rolled to the group of crates down the block. “Sayuri! This isn't-”

“Just let it go, will you?” Droopy eyes flickered toward Tadashi and then upward, before returning to earth once more. Slender hands grasped the sides of a crate half her size and, with strength that didn't become her, lifted it with a grunt. “The stars aren't in our favor- best to leave it alone. Aji, come help me.”

“Okay!” With a perky smile and swinging hips, the other woman glided over and, with one toned arm, lifted a crate onto her shoulder. She winked at Tadashi as she spun, calling out a, “See you around!” before disappearing around the corner of the building.

Miss eye patch stood still, snarl seemingly edged into her stone face permanently. Tadashi thought she was going to attack them, the consensus of her group be damned, but, thankfully, didn't. Instead she stomped over to the remaining pile, hauling a stack of three crates into her arms, and, giving them one last stink eye for good measure, took her leave.

Tadashi let out the breath he was holding, his chest no longer constricted, and lowered the crowbar (his arm was burning, too weak to hold it properly any longer). He waited a minute longer, not daring to do anything too loud.

“Are they gone?”

The person jumped, as if he'd been startled, which was slightly ridiculous because he had been the one to save Tadashi. “… yes.”

“They're not coming back?”

“… no.”

He sighed, dropping his weapon altogether. “That's a relief.”

No response. His savior didn't even turn around.

Tadashi breathed heavily through his nose, eyes flickering to the figure before him and their surroundings, suddenly apprehensive once again. He wondered whether he should pick up the crowbar again. “Well, I guess- I guess I should be thanking you?” Cue nervous laugh. “For, you know, saving me from… whatever that was.”

Still, nothing.

The robotics engineer cleared his throat. “No really, thank you. You don't even know me and didn't have to, but you still did. And if you hadn't come when you did… well, I'm not sure what would've happened.”

Shoulders visibly stiffened.

“But you scared them right off- I mean, it's a little unnerving that you knew them and they knew you, but I'm just going to… yeah, that's not- I don't…” Deep breath, then another. “What I'm trying to say is thanks for saving me.”

“Someone had to help.”

The words surprised him, unexpecting as he was of them. They rung through his ears, flickering along both his conscious and unconsciousness like a flame in a fireplace. It had his mind centered around a night not long ago, one where he had turned away from someone important and run into a building that, just like his life of recently, had erupted and fallen around him, leaving him burned and scrambling to pick up the pieces.

So he stuttered through a, “Yeah, that's- you're right. Someone has to help.”

There was a loud sigh and the figure tilted their head back to the sky. He heard a quiet whisper as their hood slipped and revealed a head of messy, dark hair.

Tadashi took a step forward. “Hey, are you-”

“-the worst, seriously.”

“What?”

Just as he had the thought that this stranger might not be the safest or the sanest of the bunch, and that maybe he should leave while he still could, it was too late. The figure was setting their shoulders straight and turning.

It was only when they raised their head to meet his eyes did Tadashi react. His breath hitched, unspoken words wrapping themselves around his vocal chords and squeezing. There was an anonymous force pressing down on him and suddenly the universe was shrinking, condensed into one point and one single moment- _this_ moment.

The person with his brother’s face smiled. “Hey, Tadashi.”

He thought, _what_ , and then Tadashi’s world tilted and toppled on itself, and he joined the bodies on the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the chapter was worth the prolonged wait.


	19. Family Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is hella late. But finally, all your prayers have been answered.

“I need your help.”

Connor took one look at Hiro’s expression and the person slumped in his arms and abandoned his ticket booth.

“He was outside and they were threatening him- they were going to hurt him or something,” Hiro babbled, letting the man take Tadashi from him. He hovered close, unsure where to help and whether it would actually be helpful. “I don't know why he's here. Why is he here? He shouldn't be here- he should be far, far, _far_ away, like, on a different continent because that's safe and being here isn't.”

“Hiro, calm down.” Connor pulled Tadashi higher on his shoulder and angled them toward the entrance. “It's alright.”

“No, it's not alright. How can it be alright when _he_ -,” Hiro whispered, blatantly pointing at the unconscious person- his _brother-_ with them, “-is here. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here, Connor.”

Connor raised a hand in his direction, as if to calm him, but that wasn't a possibility- not with how taunt his nerves were. “Yes, I know, he shouldn't be here. I know, believe me, I know, but you need to relax. Hiro, you're going into-”

“Shock? Is that what you were going to say? ‘Cause that better not be what you were going to say! I have every right to freak out! Why shouldn't I be freaking out? My brother was just cornered by psycho criminals and when I saved him, he took one look at me and fainted!” Hiro groaned, pulling at his hair. One look at Tadashi and his unconscious state- looking far too still, too _lifeless_ \- had his blood pressure spiking; he took gasping breaths, unable to stop. “I'm seriously the worst time traveler in existence and _oh my God, I think I'm having a panic attack._ ”

“Trust me, Hiro, you're not the worst. Breathe- see how I'm breathing? Copy me. Deep breaths.” Somehow Hiro got his lungs to work, inhaling. For the next couple of breaths, he synchronized with Connor. “Good. Now keep doing that, keep breathing- in and out. Everything's fine, you understand? I'll help you just like I promised. I'm helping you, Hiro. Nod if you understand.”

Hiro nodded.

“Good. You said he fainted, right?” He nodded again. “Didn't hit his head or anything?” He shook his head. “Nothing serious then, just shock.”

The young genius fidgeted, fingers twitching as his chest heaved in paced bursts. “When…” He licked his lips. “When is he going to wake up? He is going to wake up, right?”

The man somehow managed to guide them through the door while simultaneously reassuring the frantic genius. “Of course he's going to wake up- he's going to be fine.”

Tadashi was settled on his side on the only couch in the small entry room, Hiro quick to help lower him and sneak a cushion underneath the former’s head. Hands went from shaky to still whenever dealing with his brother’s unconscious body, switching back to their twitchy ways once they retreated and had nothing to occupy themselves with. He loomed over his brother, anxiously watching as Connor pressed two fingers against his throat and became silent, counting. Connor, on his part, took pity and allowed him to loom over, not saying anything even when, in his shifting, Hiro blocked the only light source, a beat up lamp with beads decorating its edges.

The freckled man finished and moved to raise an eyelid. “Relax. This isn't my first rodeo, you know. I promise he's going to be alright.”

Hiro lost control of his neck as his head bobbled. “Yeah, y-yeah, you're right. I'm just…” He motioned toward his head with a trembling hand, shaking it. “I don't like how he looks so, so…”

Bandages were peeled back partly, leaving scarred tissue to greet the stale air of the room. He was reminded of vinyl being stripped away from a carbon fiber exoskeleton, leaving wreckage in its wake, and shivered.

There was a pain in his left hand and he looked down, surprised, to see his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. Though what came at an even greater surprise was the fact that a familiar baseball cap was clutched in the grip of his right, crumpled and sporting a wet, brown splotch on its bill.

 _Deep breath_ , he instructed himself, _just keep breathing_.

It didn't help the sudden nausea that boiled at the base of his stomach.

“Don't you have something to, I don't know, wake him up?” he asked.

Connor gave a distracted grunt. “What? Oh, you mean smelling salts? No, I don't have any of those. The twins stole them a few months ago and hid them around the derby- haven't replaced them yet.” The nurse made a sound of assessment, standing to his full height and stretching out the kinks in his back. He gave Hiro a small smile, though it looked artificial and didn't reach his eyes. “No, all we gotta do is wait it out. He’ll wake up in his own time- though, medically saying, I give him about twenty minutes.”

A rush of relief, like a cold glass of water on a hot summer day, washed over him at those words.

“Oh thank g- good. That… That's good.”

His companion pursed his lips, fiery hair falling in his face when he angled his head down and peered at Tadashi.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if anything happened to him,” Hiro admitted quietly to the hat in his hands, playing with the clasp at its back. A thumb ran over the frayed edges, no doubt from one too many tumbles in the washer, and likened it to the quick unraveling of his own life. “I can't lose him- not again.”

He felt more than saw Connor’s afflicted look.

Then the door, the one that opened to the roller rink, was opening and the genius felt his face begin to go blank, ready to take on a new mask. Emotions had to be bottled up and sealed or else he would lose himself.

“Does anyone know what's got Tsubaki ready for murder? She's hissing up a storm out back and-”

Connor was at the door, halting it before it could open even a fourth of a way. There was a squawk, of surprise then outrage.

“What do you think you're do-”

No apology was presented, just another push at the door. “Right now isn't the best time, Ren.”

Hiro would be impressed with the ticket booth man’s courage (or want of an early death) to treat Ren in such a way if not for the presence of his brother, who, by absolute right, had his sole attention. So, he let their words fly over his head and made to lower himself onto the floor, knees to chin as he looked upon his brother’s face.

“Connor, you will let me through this instant or so help me…”

There was a click of the tongue. “You know your threats don't work on me.”

A scuffle ensued, one where the door tittered between open and closed. Ren was growling and spitting now, snarling like an animal ready to attack, but Connor refused to budge, voice cool and collected even as the woman started cursing. A quiet muttering had started up past the wood of the door, undoubtedly from intrigued derby goers at the commotion.

“ _Doke_! I will break down this door and then I'll break you-”

 _Thud_ , a fist made contact with wood.

Tadashi shifted, eyebrows puckering in some unconscious turmoil.

Hiro watched the rise and fall of his chest, his own still hurting with every breath. He mumbled, “It's fine, Connor, she can come in.”

And just like that, Connor backed off, letting Ren stumble through, feet thudding against the rug in an attempt to keep upright and bringing up a small cloud of dust. She sent the man a harsh look, fixing her jacket with an efficient tug and a huff; Connor didn't even have the decency to look sorry.

Hiro paid them no mind, absently reaching forward and pressing his fingertips to his brother’s wrist, tracing blue veins and the pulse beating underneath his touch. A finger twitched and Hiro retreated.

Ren’s biting voice sounded out in the background. “What's this?”

“Now, Ren, be sensitive. Something happened and, well, Hiro isn't feeling very well.”

Footsteps and then she was standing right next to him, nudging his side with her foot. “What the hell is going on? Everything was fine and dandy an hour ago!”

Hiro didn't answer, but, rather wrapped his hands around his knees and eyed her cautiously with an edge as sharp as the knife she usually carried around. Down and shaken as he was, he wasn't going to let anything happen to his brother- which was all the more plausible with the woman's temper rising up as it was. Secret be damned, what mattered was Tadashi's safety.

Though going by the light of recognition that sparked in her eye when she finally looked upon the fourth person in the room, he knew his secret wasn't going to last much longer anyway.

“What is he doing here?”

Hiro pressed his lips together. He didn't tilt his head up, instead looking at her from under furrowed brows, willing her to get what he was feeling and how badly he didn't want to hear her grouse. She must have understood something because she blinked, face contorting into an unfamiliar expression before smoothing over.

“Whatever.” Instead, Ren turned to face the other occupant of the room straight on, chest to chest, with her usual hard look. “You're going to tell me what’s going on right now.”

Connor didn't seem perturbed with the close proximity. He exhaled loudly, running a hand up and through his hair. “I'm sorry to tell you this, but a quick summary isn't going to cut it.”

Ren merely just leaned in, eyes narrowed and glinting like chipped obsidian. “Try me.”

Here Connor laughed, quiet but frenetic. “I don't think you'll believe me.”

“Don't care. This is _my_ place, so I'm in charge. Now tell me why the number one on Yama’s hit list is on _my_ couch in _my_ derby.”

All at once, Hiro found himself unable to bear any of this any longer. Secrets, secrets, secrets. That was what it all came down to. Who was working for who and who knew what- it was maddening trying to keep track of it all. It wasn't surprising anymore at how everyone seemed to be off their kilter; stay mixed in this web and he could easily see himself getting caught in its tangles.

So, he clenched his jaw and said, “He's my brother.”

Two pairs of eyes, one dark and the other light (both unreadable), came to rest on him.

“What?”

Hiro didn't flinch, but kept his gaze straight ahead. “My brother. You asked what he was doing here- on your couch, in your derby. It's because he's my brother.”

There was a pause as Ren processed the information, head tilting to the side. Finally, she said, “Well, that's… new.”

The genius shifted so that he was facing them, nose wrinkling at the weird undertone of her words. “I'm not lying, if that's what you're thinking. He really is my brother.”

She waved a hand at him dismissively. “No, I don't doubt that- he looks just as much a brat as you do. What I mean is that I haven't heard any of this before. Nothing from Yama either, which is weird considering he was one of my girls’ targets.” She gave a short hum of consideration before turning toward Connor, one eyebrow raised in a silent challenge. “And I suppose you've known for a while.”

The man smiled and she rolled her eyes.

“So both of your brothers are on Yama’s bad side- and Yokai’s too, I imagine.” She tapped a finger to her chin, face screwed up in thought. “That explains a lot, but hey, everyone's got secrets so who am I to judge. Still, two brothers having beef with-”

“Just one.”

“What?”

“One.” Hiro raised a single finger. “I only have one brother.”

For the first time in all of Hiro's short period of knowing Ren, he saw that her face was taken over by a look of utter confusion. He wanted to laugh, to celebrate this major victory, but controlled himself and forced his expression to remain serious.

“So, which one is it then?” Confusion let on to frustration, which was best communicated with anger. “The boy from before or this sack of potatoes?”

Hiro felt his lips curl, finding it all amusing. Not long ago, he would have been scratching at the walls in his frenzy to keep his business- his secret, Tadashi, everything- from becoming common knowledge. Now, it was useless, what with Tadashi here.

Thankfully, Connor knew exactly how to handle the situation; a familiar photo was taken out and handed to her. She frowned as she looked at it, the downturn of her mouth exaggerating the longer she looked. Then her head was jerking up to look at him, then back down, then back up again.

Connor laughed, no qualms about how it was at her benefit. “Well, you see- now this is a doozy, let me just warn you- our friend here isn't just your average San Fransokyo citizen. He's from the fu-”

“Don't.” Ren interrupted, raising a hand.

“I thought you wanted to know,” Connor sniped, as satisfied as a cat with cream. “Aren't you intrigued with the thought of it all. C’mon Ren, say it with me, time tra-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” She pressed a finger to the man's lips, eyes closed and head upturned away from them. She took a moment and Hiro could see the wheels turning in her mind, inching toward that one conclusion that, in all regards, should be impossible, yet, with him there, could only be true. “Yes, I want to know, but I am not having it done all jumbled. If we're doing this, we're doing it right. And with lots of proof.”

Tadashi gave a soft grunt and shifted, becoming the spotlight in a matter of nanoseconds and bringing attention back to the current situation at hand.

Ren gave a loud sigh, rubbing her temple. “We can have everyone go in and out through the back and side doors. It'll be a hassle, but no one'll walk in on…” She motioned toward the couch.

“Tadashi.” It felt like a sin saying his brother's name in such a place- to bring something so innocent into a place so dark. Still, he felt better for it. “His name is Tadashi.”

“Yeah, whatever. No one'll bother him for the next couple of hours.” She cracked her neck, ignoring Connor’s frown of displeasure at the sound. “Well, we still got a job in the works, so I better go and make sure no one does anything stupid- well, anything more stupid.”

It was a tease in his direction, Hiro knew, and found himself feeling beholden to her with her try at normalcy. It didn't seem like the world was going to blow up any longer, not if Ren was still sending backhanded compliments his way.

“And you.” She poked Connor in the chest more forceful than necessary. “Don't think you're off the hook. We're going to have a talk, right now, and you're going to tell me everything.”

“I do love to chat.” Connor agreed, smiling.

Ren scoffed, marching towards the door and pulling it open, nearly unhinging the bolts in the wall and the people crowded around on the other side. She sent them a glare, sharp and dangerous as broken glass, and they scrambled away without further notice. She smirked, already making her way across the room with only one command that the red haired man follow.

But Connor didn't leave immediately, instead crouching down and setting a hand on Hiro’s head. He offered a small smile, supportive and everything Tadashi's slack face currently lacked. “Call if you need anything, alright?”

Hiro returned the smile, appreciative, nodding. “I will, thanks.”

Then he was gone and the two brothers were alone.

He could just hear the voices on the other side of the door, faintly picking out Ren's snappy tone telling everyone to mind their own business. He gave a light chuckle, it ending in a sigh when he turned back to see his brother's still slumped form. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, he ran a few fingers in the other's hair, brushing it out of his face before retracting it once more.

Hiro sighed again and leaned his cheek against the moth-ridden couch, settling in for the long wait.

“I'm sorry.”

His voice was low and reflective, a mere whisper floating in the stale air.

“I'm really sorry, for everything,” he told his brother, some unseen force pushing him to continue. “I'm sorry that I made fun of you and called you a nerd all the time. I'm sorry for breaking your snowboard trying to sled down the stairs and for blaming you when I broke that antique vase Aunt Cass got at Ms. Matsuri’s yard sale. I'm sorry for getting angry whenever you brought up mom and dad… and for ripping that picture of them when you first said they would be disappointed in me. I'm sorry that I kept going to the bot fights even when you told me to stop. And for not listening when you were just trying to help.”

There was no way Tadashi would hear him, not even on a subconscious level, but Hiro felt something inside him snap and release.

“I'm sorry it took so long for me to understand- that you only wanted what was best for me and that you did everything you did because you loved me. I'm sorry for being a stupid kid and making everything a hassle, and- and,” he said, heaving a deep breath, “for not stopping you from going into the building.”

He rubbed his face, feeling the wetness around his eyes. “It's just, I…” His voice hitched, something getting caught in his throat. “I missed you.”

Despite Baymax’s constant assurances that ‘it's okay to cry,’ it had been years since Hiro had let himself wallow in the overwhelming sadness that his brother's death had caused. Now, however, it all seemed to rush out, like he had just taken a step off a cliff and now he had nowhere else to go besides down.

“I-I just missed you so much,” he sobbed, unable hold it in any longer.

Hiro pressed his face further into the couch, unable to look at the world any longer, and cried until he couldn't cry anymore. He cried until there were no more tears and the silence of the room took back its throne, reigning over its court with a power that left Hiro feeling empty.

And it was with a heavy heart, burdened with feelings that still left him cringing, that Hiro sighed and straightened.

Only when he looked up a pair of brown eyes were staring back at him.

 

* * *

Hiro never wanted to see another kimono ever again.

Okay, no, that was wrong. He _preferred_ not to see another kimono if it was worn by crazy rollerblading woman. And if he did, then someone would have to hold him back to make sure he didn't sick Baymax on them.

Because every time he dealt with them, or anything that involved them, everything went haywire and nothing went right. And now, even with an actual policeman (the Chief of Police, no less) in front of him and them in handcuffs, everything was in threat of unraveling once again.

This threat came in the form of a young man with piercings.

A couple of words Hiro didn't hear had the stranger passing through the wall of cop cars. Hiro didn't like the fact that no one stepped in his way, allowing them through while a crowd of people, interested and noisy about all the commotion, littered on the streets trying to get a better view of the proceeds.

The officer that had first approached Hiro, seconds after he had dismounted Baymax and offered the captured malefactors, didn't object to the sudden appearance of the figure either, looking not at all surprised. The young man, a new card in this counted deck, almost seemed… expected. With a grunt, he offered a, “If you're here to vouch for their release, tough luck.” If the officer's gruff voice affected the young man, he didn't show it. Instead, he came to them with a relaxed air, head to toe in dark clothes and a silver chain wrapped around his wrist.

Only sparing Hiro and his unusual armor the barest of glances, he took the reins of the conversation in his own ring-adorned hands. “I've been sent with strict directions to convince you otherwise.”

Hiro immediately didn't like him.

“We've been after this bunch for a while.” The officer patted the car’s top, earning a sour look from the individuals held inside. “You intend on paying bail before we even get to the station?”

The stranger pursed his lips. He looked to the girls in the car, who glared back, face scrunching up like he just swallowed a lemon. “No, I can't pay their bail… not with money, at least. But I can give you a couple of tips and leads to the Martillo family and their little… intentions. I know you're having trouble rounding up their races.”

Hiro was stunned while the officer only raised his eyebrows, creating more wrinkles in his forehead. The Martillos were notorious for supplying almost every gang in San Fransokyo with illegal weapons, always one step ahead of the police. They kept to themselves and the only reason Hiro even knew about them was through the accidental slip during his bot fights.

“We haven't made a public statement about that yet- it's still considered classified information.”

The young man didn't comment on that, instead remaining silent even when the seconds passed.

Surprisingly enough the cop didn't look angry, but, rather, exasperated. He leaned back, posture more open. “That all?”

The stranger shrugged. “I don't have much else to give you. They're hard to come by as it is. But, if you don't want it, I understand- I can just take my services elsewhere…”

The unimpressed stare from the officer did an efficient job in showcasing the blatant transparency of the threat and make Hiro wonder who exactly was this guy.

“How many?” the officer asked.

“Three”

“Four.”

The stranger didn't budge. “Three. One for each of them.”

It took the couple of seconds they eyed each other for the boy to make the connection that they were talking about tidbits of information in correlation of bargaining chips. They were trading intel for people.

“… let me report to my commanding officer.”

Hiro gaped. “What?”

His outburst was ignored. Only after a wary eye in his direction did they migrate farther away to speak in soft tones and with a, “Not now, son,” he was kept at bay. He watched the stranger offer the officer a card, angry that he couldn't hear what they were saying.

When they came back, the deal was undoubtedly made and there was nothing the genius could do. The car door was opened, the women uncuffed and seen out of its confines even as Hiro floundered and spluttered.

Why was this happening?

“Thank you. This is greatly appreciated,” the man said, giving a smile that oozed practiced politeness. “Connor sends his regards.”

Then- _then!_ \- he turned and started walking away, the trio of women following without a moment’s notice. It was only when they had ducked under the caution tape circling the entire area that Hiro found his words once again.

“What? We can't just- you can't just… They're getting away- like, as in walking away! They literally _just_ robbed a multimillionaire company!” Hiro swung his arm out, all but pointing to the building behind them, with its broken, glass door and plume of smoke rising from its center. “And- and you're just going to let them walk?”

The police officer gave him a look; heavily hooded eyes swept up and down his armor clad form, taking in his tinted visor and knobby ankles and came to some sort of conclusion. Wrinkly hands came to rest on an old belt buckle, nearly being swallowed by the shadow of a round stomach. “Look, son, this isn’t the place for the likes of you. Why don’t you go on and head home, and let the police deal with this.”

“I didn’t see the police dealing with it when those three- who you guys let walk away, might I add- were tearing up the building and stealing tech right from underneath your noses,” Hiro replied hotly, not at all liking the way the older man had looked down on him- as if he were a kid who knew nothing of the world. “Oh, that’s right, it was because _I_ dealt with it. While you guys were too busy twirling your fingers and sucking your thumbs, I came and caught them. I caught them and- and you just let them walk away!”

“Now, look here, I don’t like that tone of yours.” No more Mister Nice Cop- not by a long shot if the withering look was anything to go by. “If you don't like the way I do my job- twenty years and counting- then you can take their place.”

There was a pointed look to the backseat of the vehicle before them.

Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, Hiro backed off. Tadashi would kill him if he, minor or not, got arrested again. It would be illogical and useless and in no one's favor if he left the scene in handcuffs. Still, frustration boiled his blood and he couldn't help but try and get in the last words, “You wouldn't even be able to catch a box of donuts.”

Before the other was able to resort Hiro was marching (stomping) away.

He took shelter on the other side of the small fountain, out of sight and arms crossed as he muttered to himself about the stupidity of people and their incapability to see his reason. By the loud footfalls that came from behind him, Baymax had deemed it necessary to station himself infinitely near to the boy in heed of the loud disagreement. Hiro ignored the robot's presence and the inquisition of health, continuing to talk to the only person who had any sense left- himself.

“-just let them walk away! Can you believe that? I just- how could anyone- like, what is going through your mind to just let that happen?” Hiro threw his hands up, raising his eyes to the heavens as if it held the answer he desperately sought, and started pacing. “Everything was going fine and normal until that dude- who did not look trustworthy at all, if you ask me- came along! Just walked in like he owned the place and- that phone call! What was up with all that? Like, seriously! Who did they even call? And who was that guy? Why did they listen to him? It all seemed too ‘off the record’ to be anything less than suspicious!”

A loud groan emanated from the boy and it did nothing to relieve the frustration and confusion running their course through his system. Baymax spoke up yet again, but, still, the genius proved to be deaf to the outside world. Instead, magnet accoutered sneakers scuffed against the outer edge of the fountain wall, the boy belonging to them scowling into the distance.

“What should I do? I mean, what _can_ I do?” he asked himself while he ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his forehead. “Ugh, this is a mess.”

He could still see the squad of people leaving, their bright attire eye-catching in the dark area, and Hiro felt his fists clenching even as he watched them. They walked at a leisurely pace- as if they had not a care or anything to fear from the gratuitous amount of police force surrounding them. Hiro scowled harder.

As if sensing his stare, the smallest turned back; she glared at him- as if _he was in the wrong_ \- and stuck out her tongue. It was, in every way, childish and was, in no way, an indicator of a winner of this implied battle, but Hiro still found himself getting upset.

“Hiro!”

That sounded like Honey Lemon.

No, it _was_ Honey Lemon, and the rest of his brother's friends. They were all huddled together, moving as one unit until they passed the so-called criminals- all of whom cast them and their strange attire perplexing glances- and were before him.

“Hiro, where have you been? You just left and we were so worried!”

Fred was sporting a lame leg, wincing every time he so much as touched ground with it. Honey was next to him, fingers curled around his elbow to provide some support while her other hand grabbed a back spike and kept them balanced (which was quite difficult with the broken stiletto the taller girl was teetering on). Gogo looked just as banged up as the other girl, showcasing a medium sized bruise at her chin that inched down her jaw and neck, but wore it well with the accessory of her fierce expression. Leaning heavy in her arms was Wasabi, looking completely banged up and in need of a long vacation (or two).

“What happened?” The words, disgustingly stupid as they were, were out of his mouth before he could properly think.

“What do you think happened?” Gogo went hunched back as she shifted, Wasabi following in accordance like dead weight. “We're banged up from that chase and _having to walk all the way over here_.”

Shame flooded through him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” she repeated, taking a sturdy step forward.

He raised his hands in a placating gesture, though her forward attitude was leaving little room for Hiro to feel complete remorse. His mind snapped back to the encounter with the cop and the current situation considering the criminals, and he felt himself taking on the offense. “Well, I'm sorry- but it was the only way to get the bad guy.”

Their faces said differently. Actually, they all looked like they had a lot to say, but didn't even know where to start.

Gogo stepped up to the plate, her mere presence crowding Hiro in a way her small stature couldn't- or maybe that was the hulking space the semi-conscious Wasabi was taking up. “This is not what we signed up for.”

Obviously Hiro was not suitable for this kind of interaction, because he had to bite down a resort that would get him yelled out. He was truly inept in social situations where he had been in the wrong (not that he was admitting he was, because he wasn't), the genius never one to concede misdoings. Tadashi has always been the one to navigate these things. He had-

“Wait,” Hiro said suddenly, finally pinpointing the itch that had been tickling the inside of his skull all throughout the short conversation. “Where’s Tadashi?”

Gogo paused, muscles taut with a sudden tension Hiro could taste. “He isn’t with you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Hiro answered it nonetheless. “No.”

And there they were, left in the sudden realization that, in the uproar and chaos, they were still missing a potent presence. Police still milled about, unaware to strain that was currently pulling at the group.

“He went on radio silence,” Fred said, usual carefree expression drawn tight.

“That was a while ago.”

“He said he'd call or text me when he could.” It sounded like an excuse on his brother's behalf, as though him being gone was his fault and not theirs. And, make no mistake, it was. It was their fault- as his unofficial caretakers, as his friends, as his family- and they had failed it, him.

Hiro felt his earlier anger and frustration wash away, replaced with the beginnings of fear- fear for his brother. “Baymax.”

The robot turned from observing the staring police officers around them and down at the genius. Optics blinked in the familiar innocent fashion, making the robot look genuinely surprised at his name being said aloud. “Yes, Hiro?”

“Tadashi. Find him.”

Baymax could note the deviation of speech patterns, telling whether an individual was under stress or pain with a simple syllable, Hiro knew. It was one of the most important programs on file, the deciding factor that could save a life for illnesses that weren't as vocal in their hosts. It was with that in mind that Hiro knew the healthcare companion could read the emotional decline that surfaced in his demand, rude as it was, and was appreciative that there wasn't any dawdle in the answering action.

“I have located Tadashi.”

“Good. Take us there.” Another demand. “Now.”

For some reason, Hiro felt as if the robot would say, “No,” and deny the order. Something in the robot's gaze- looking past them, the crowds of civilians, the flashing lights and beyond their reach- gave birth to an insecurity he didn't know he possessed. It was an utterly absurd notion, what with the guidelines physically drilled into the machinery that made up everything that Baymax was, but, still, Hiro couldn't stop the writhing fear from tacking itself to the back of his mind.

Then, “Will it be beneficial for your health?”

He let out the breath he was holding, insides squirming as his robotic friend turned to look at him again (somehow findings purchase through the tinted visor and at the boy hiding under the armor). “Yes, yes it is. I- yes, just take me- us, take us. Please.”

“Of course, Hiro.”

For some reason, the compliant answer didn't make him feel any better.

 

* * *

“You're not going to faint again, are you?”

Tadashi opened his mouth to reply hotly that ‘ _No, he was not going to faint and it's just a lot of take in okay?_ ’ but realized too late that his lungs weren't working properly and he couldn't make the words to come. A loud gasp was all that he could force out, raspy and wet sounding.

The imposter surged forward, wide eyed and alarmed. “Whoa, you're not allowed to freak out- well, okay, you're allowed, but please, please don't faint on me again.”

The robotics engineer immediately launched himself off the couch and to the nearest corner he could find, slipping out of range from the other's hands while clutching his own to his chest. His eyes flickered around the room, taking in its dingy and unfamiliar appearance, before once again settling on the stranger before him.

The stranger was standing over the couch, hands still reaching out to the now empty space. His head swiveled to face him and Tadashi couldn't help but wince, watching his brother's stolen face contort into something truly painful in response.

Things grew so quiet that the only thing he could hear was his own frantic heartbeat.

Tadashi spent the time closely observing the imposter. He took in the thick eyelashes, stubby nose, and jutting ears- all exact copies of similar parts belonging to a certain thirteen-year-old genius he knew. However, the stranger’s height, even hunched over, greatly overshadowed that of his brother. Even the face, which could nearly be a mirror image of Hiro, was somehow indescribably different- mature in a way Hiro's chubby cheeks could not be.

Eventually, the game of comparing and contrasting the two faces became too trying and he decided to break the silence. “Where…” He cleared the frog stuck in his throat and started again. “Where am I?”

Tadashi must have broken through whatever revere the other was going through, because he blinked and straightened with a weird look.

“The Flower Garden,” the stranger said, and, there, Tadashi could see, was a slight gap between two front teeth peeking out from beneath a thin upper lip. Then, like it was an afterthought, those very lips opened again and said, “It's a roller derby.”

“A roller derby,” he repeated, because _of course, a roller derby, why not?_

“Yeah.”

Now they both looked to be at a loss for words. It was weird, the two of them just standing there and staring at each other like this- like the world’s most awkward first date.

Then, “Get your nosy little butts away from that door!”

The voice, unfamiliar and loud as it was, brought Tadashi to the startling discovery that they weren't alone (not in the truest sense of it anyway). He looked in the direction of one of the two doors, ears perking toward the now noticeable sound coming from behind it; if he strained hard enough he could just make out the nonsensical chatter of people and… the clanking of metal?

“Taka, I mean it! I'm not in the mood!” The woman’s voice was heard again, tone harsh, followed by a child's loud complaining. “Scram!”

“That's Ren,” the imposter said, inclining his head. “She… well, she owns the place.”

Tadashi found himself nodding. “I’ll have to thank her for her great hospitality.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had time, or the sense, to catch them and stuff them back down his throat. He wanted to curse himself because he was pretty sure that when you were in a situation like his- butt deep in an unfamiliar place and surrounded by people who could possibly gut you and leave you rotting on a curb at any second- you weren’t supposed to be sassing your so-called captors.

“Of course you would.”

The response was given with a small shake of the head and a huff of laughter. Tadashi watched as the other placed his hands lightly on his hips, face angled toward the ground when he finally glanced up, knowing smile curving the dips of his mouth.

The scene was achingly familiar, like someone had scanned and copied his little brother in one of his calmer moments- the lingering echoes of a smile snatched from his face after a round of giggles to be preserved before it slipped and was lost forever in the stream of time-, and it made something in Tadashi snap.

“And who are you to know that, huh?”

Shock. That was the expression that took over most of the stranger’s face. It parted lips and widened eyes, splaying out his face in such a vulnerable fashion that left Tadashi instantly feeling far too much like a cartoon villain twirling a mustache with evil intent.

Though he wasn't given enough time to dwell over the malicious lump sticking to the chambers of his heart, because there were more words, softer in tone, that needed his attention.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

“I don-”

“Yes, you do.”

The differences, which were not so insignificantly small, he decided, were even more nerve wrecking than the details he so ardently recognized; they were strange reverberations of _could be_ ’s that rang too close to the truth.

Almost like he was-

No.

This was not his brother, but an imposter. An imposter that liked to play tricks and, for whatever reason, had chosen Tadashi as his next victim.

The stranger sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Look. We both know who I am- who I look like- and I'm here to tell you that you're right. That whatever you're thinking now, no matter how crazy it might sound, it's probably spot on.”

A pulsing started in his head. Was that his heartbeat? God, it was loud.

“You've got to be kidding me.” There was no way he was going to deal with this, add another crazy situation to his already filled plate.

“I'm-”

“You're crazy. I mean, I must be crazy too, because why else would I be here? But that's not the point. The point is that you- yes, you right there- are crazy. Crazy to think that I would- to think that anyone would-” He was moving now, out of the corner and pacing behind the couch with a hand waving about as if trying to call for a taxi. “I just found out a couple of days ago that the mob’s out to get me, you know, and that's not- no one is ever ready for that, let me tell you. There is no warning, no pamphlet with nice little palm trees on the cover, that tells you what to do. So, excuse me if I'm not exactly open to… this.”

A step forward was taken and arms opened out, palms facing up, pleading. “I know it's a lot to take in- believe me, I know- but, please, just hear me out.”

“And how do you expect me to believe this? Believe you?” No one had outright said it, but Tadashi wasn't stupid- he could read between the lines and find that missing conversion factor imperative to decoding this jumbled mess. And it was a mess alright, a downright mess. A story that sounded like it came out of a science fiction novel with a plot so thick and full of complexities that even the author was left reeling. “This is absolutely nuts. Crazy to a factor of a million and one. Insane like no tomorrow. This is not possible. This is-”

“Unbelievable?” the imposter said with a small, hesitant smile.

Tadashi froze in his tracks.

An invisible string wrapped itself around his arm, stitching the burned war ground of his skin together, and tugged at his seams. He could feel every fiber, every molecule, of his being unravel and bind back together, tightening with the surety of an experienced seamstress. The string, seemingly unbreakable and made out of something otherworldly, knotted itself to Tadashi, anchoring him, and found itself winding its other end around the only other person in the room.

Oh.

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again, only to procure the same result.

The world was simply a weight on a string, swinging to a rhythm that went in tune to the beating of his own heart. Like a pendulum found in an old grandfather clock, every insignificant _tick_ and _tock_ shook all of space with a power that left people humbled. Humbled and insignificantly small. Yes, that was how Tadashi felt. There was an entire life happening outside the clock and its systematic routine, and here he was, thoroughly rattled after finding one gear out of place.

His hands shook, inching to fix that break and hear it chime once again. Then, very quietly, “Hiro?”

A hand was raised tentatively, giving an awkward wave. “Hey, big brother.”

And it was that smile, small and unsure, that finally drew him in. It hooked his heart, swayed as it was in that sea of apprehension and hope, and reeled it in.

“You're… You…” Breathing was tough, but for a completely different reason now; his throat constricted and he blinked rapidly for reasons that weren't entirely known to him. Finally, voice thick, he spoke, “You knucklehead.”

Hiro laughed, the sound strangled and watery, and then, without any other inclination, threw his arms around Tadashi.

The height difference was unfamiliar territory and it felt weird wrapping his arms around shoulders broader than what he was used to, but Tadashi ignored the small blimp and found himself hugging back just as fiercely. It didn't matter that the other's hands were just as large as his; it didn't matter because though they were bigger- harder and calloused in ways that told the story of another life- they still gripped him with the desperation of a frightened, little kid who desperately wanted his older brother.

It must've been strange for him as well, stuck in a place where everything was the same, but different.

They didn't break apart until a long while later and when they did it was to a new world; a world where superheroes were real and little brothers weren't so little anymore.

Tadashi leaned back and squinted across the small distance between them. The prolonged staring, even after the heartfelt hug, had Hiro fidgeting where he stood opposite to him.

“What is it?”

Tadashi didn't answer immediately, instead spending time in looking over the other's face. His gaze strayed on the dark circles underlining tired eyes and the downward slump of bony shoulders, and he frowned. “You look…”

A great big sigh was heaved, followed closely by the words, “If you're about to say something about how terrible I look- don't. I already know.”

His frown deepened as he reached forward, grabbing Hiro’s jaw and tilting it up and into the caress of the dim light; there wasn't much complaining, putting not an ounce of effort to fight off the usually unwanted attention. His Hiro- well, the Hiro who still had to go on his tip toes in order to reach the cookie jar back home and wasn’t traveling through time and space itself- _always_ made a fuss when he even so much as breathed a word about his worry. This oddity only made to unsettle Tadashi further.

Still, he knew how to handle these kinds of situations. “But in all seriousness, you look like a hairball Mochi coughed up.”

This time Hiro did make a move to protest, pushing away from him and crossing his arms at the tease, easily slipping into the unfaltering banter of siblings. “Yeah, well, let's put you in a portal and travel back in time and see what happens.”

Tadashi cocked his head. “A portal?”

“It was originally supposed to be for instantaneous travel, but…” Hiro shrugged. “Space and time kind of go hand-in-hand.”

“Ah,” he supplied, still confused.

Hiro’s eye twitched, face illustrating a watered down version of true surprise and apprehension. “You know… you're taking this reasonably well. I mean, I don't know what I was expecting, but it sure wasn't this.” A breathless laugh escaped him. “I think a part of me thought you'd be angry or tell me off.”

“Oh, I'm totally freaking out on the inside right now.” Tadashi told him, successfully keeping his voice calm and at an appropriate volume. “And I'm totally angry.”

“Oh, cool- wait, wha-”

“What’s wrong with you?” Tadashi stepped forward before the other could defend himself and got inside his guard, jabbing him in the chest with every word and steadily advancing when he tried to back away; he snatched the hat ( _his_ hat) that was being used as a mediocre defense and began whacking him with that. “I can't believe you- still getting into trouble! First with the bot fights and now with time travel!”

“Are… are you scolding me?” His I-make-trouble-wherever-I-go brother swatted away the attacks, sounding incredulous. “Seriously? Oh my g- you are! You are literally scolding me. Unbelievable.”

“And why shouldn't I? You went back in time and purposely meddled with the past!”

“First of all, coming here was not my idea- it wasn't my fault at all and I sure as heck didn't plan on it. Secondly, I'm not meddling in things. I'm fixing them.”

Tadashi didn't see it the same way.

“Haven't you ever read a book or comic or something?” Hiro opened his mouth to respond, but Tadashi was already moving on. “Apparently not, because this is like the plot for every single one of them. And what's the message in the end? No, don't answer, I'll tell you. It's ‘ _don't do it_.’” There was an exasperated sigh. “And you did it. Didn't even think about the consequence.”

Hiro looked offended, shaking a finger in his face. “Okay, no. Don't tell me I don't know- because I do. I do know. Heck, I know better than anyone. And I'm dealing- I'll deal with the consequences.” There was a fierceness in his expression that had Tadashi halting in his tracks. “But if we're talking about stupid things people do, then you are number one on that list. Because, _seriously_ , running into a burning building! What were _you_ thinking?”

He groaned, feeling as if he had already had this conversation once before (and he had). “I'm not the one who’s interacting with a predestined timeline! Hiro, do you have any idea what you've done? Who knows what you changed! How it could affect your future!”

“Whoa, hey. I do know what I changed and, for the most part, I'm totally okay with it.” Arms were crossed, a symbol of defiance that would not be swayed.

Tadashi wanted to bang his head against a wall because, honestly, his brother was the most bull-headed person he'd ever met, no matter what age. “What on Earth would make you- no, I don't want to know. Don't tell me anything.”

“Tell you what? About the future?” Hiro asked, “The world’s not going to explode because you know one insignificant detail. I mean I-”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Tadashi covered his ears, shaking his head. There was no way he would add more to an already crazy situation. Who knew what would happen if he knew of the possible outcomes of his future- honestly how had his life come to worrying about it as if it were a movie spoiler?

Hiro huffed angrily, dissecting his hands from his ears. “I wasn't going to say anything!”

“You were! I know you and I know that you can't even keep a secret for more than a week.”

“What?” It was amazing how Hiro could still look like a bratty kid even in such times and circumstances. “I’ve kept this secret for almost a month! And this isn't even a secret- well, not anymore, but that’s beside the point!” He took a deep breath. “Backtrack. Look, I’ve been thinking this over and I'm more than positive that telling you won't create a supermassive black hole or a, I don't know, rip in the time continuum.”

Tadashi’s brain wanted to melt rather than deal with this. “How can you be sure?”

“If something was going to happened, it would've happened already. I think my future and your future wouldn't even be the same, so what I tell you about mine won't matter. They may just converge together when I get back and revert back into one.”

It was a theory based entirely on speculations and Tadashi narrowed his eyes; Hiro was pulling at metaphorical, time traveling straws. “You don't know that.”

“I'm still here, aren't I?”

He was right, he was still there. If anything changed the timeline, then, theoretically, it would correct itself and erase the impurities, but Hiro himself proved that that wasn't the case.

Still…

“Not for long though.” At his brother's stumped expression, Tadashi elaborated, feeling a pressure in his chest and a pinch in his heart, “You'll have to leave- go back to where you came from, your own time- eventually… right?”

The other's face went unnaturally blank, like smooth stone worn from the elements. “Eventually.”

It was quiet between them, both undoubtedly wondering where they could go from here. Unfortunately, Tadashi was completely spent and had nothing to put forth to move the conversation along, letting it dip into a hole far too deep to climb out. Thankfully, Hiro wasn't bound to such problems.

“Do you… do you want to meet everyone?”

“Meet everyone?” Tadashi asked, brow furrowing at the unexpected question.

Hiro merely nodded, shifting his body toward the door behind him in a silent direction. Tadashi blinked, comprehension dripping into the puddle of his mind ever so slowly.

“What? You mean like… now?”

Shrug. “Well, not everyone, but… yeah, why not?”

Yes, why not? What could possibly go wrong?

Howbeit, the robotics engineer found himself nodding in affirmation, steady and sure in a way he didn't feel. He was ready, he assured himself mentally as he arranged his body toward the only barrier between him and infamous nightlife of San Fransokyo. Alright, he could do this.

“Before, uh, before we do that…” Hiro looked apprehensive, wringing his hands. “I should warn you that things are only going to get… crazier. Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ , is kind of… well, they're weird- kind of insane, really- but really nice.” He seemed to catch what he said, whirling on him with a warning. “Don't tell Ren I said that.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

He stumbled back when desperate hands grasped his arms once more and pulled him forward, the smell of oil and candy wafting in the air. “Last hug.”

Tadashi didn't complain, returning the embrace to the best of his ability and limited movement of his arms. Vaguely, he wondered what had made this Hiro so touchy feely. Generally speaking, his little brother wasn't very open about his feelings- well, any feeling that concerned deep rooted emotions- and liked to live life through the spurts of close calls and fist bumps. The older Hamadas had to all but ambush the younger in order to procure a hug, or things of that nature, in public, Hiro whining halfheartedly the entire time.

The odd behavior was cut short when Hiro tore away at the sound of someone knocking on the door. Quickly wiping his nose and any evidence of softness from his face, he turned away from Tadashi. He straightened his jacket and set his shoulders back, opting an expression of cool aloofness that was a Gogo trademark if he ever saw one, and made to open the door.

He paused just short of turning the brass knob. “You ready?”

The older Hamada nodded, sliding a confident smile on his face as he fixed his cap. “Was born ready.”

It was bigger than he expected, not as rundown as the outside. The inside of the building was artfully lit, the rink at its center having spotlights blaring down on it while the outskirts, filled with tables and couches and the like, was shadowed in a mysterious air. He looked up and took in the high ceiling, the large tv bolted to the wall and the music booth in the corner. The low hum of a song floated through the air and the entire place smelled of sweat, metal and, strangely enough, daisies.

Once his inspection of the space was undergone, he allowed himself time to take notice of the people.

Despite the hour, which was slowly passing into night, quite a few individuals still lurked about. Most of them, if not all, straightened to attention at their arrival, staring at him with such intensity that Tadashi felt as if he would burst into flame. Thankfully, there weren't any painted faces in the sea of many and he breathed easier.

A woman sauntered up to them, arms crossed and oozing an air of authority he could feel pressing down on him. A group of children shuffled behind her. “Well, finally. I thought you'd died or something.”

Hiro’s shoulder pressed against his. “You wish.”

The woman rolled her eye and Tadashi could not stop looking at the eyepatch that covered the other, curiously wondering about the story behind it. A hand reached over and roughly fluffed one of the kids’ hair, pushing them in a way that elicited a laugh. “A girl can dream.”

His brother’s smirk was natural and it said a lot about the level of comfort he held in this group of strangers. “Yeah, well, better luck next time. Anyway, here- meet my brother.”

Tadashi was precipitously pushed forward, stumbling over his two left feet. He sent a glare over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the way his brother's lips were pressed together to hide the smile that was threatening to break through. However, effortlessly and without much pause, he tweaked the frown into a charming smile and redirected it toward the others.

“Hello,” he said, offering a hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman- Ren, Hiro had said her name was- gave him a once over, eye stilling at the tips of his left hand and the bandages he still donned; he did his best not to feel too insecure and fought the urge to hide the limb. Then her eye was at his face, drilling into his skull with an intensity that felt coercive.

“Er,” he said intelligently, fingers curling as his hand began to look awkward aimlessly floating in the space between them.

Thankfully, deliverance from the situation came in the form of a figure slipping through the small crowd. Tadashi's attention descended onto the individual who looked at home in the derby, watching as blue eyes sparked at the sight of him and a teasing smile pushed at their lips.

Oh, well, he did not see this coming.

“Hello Mr. Hamada, it's nice to see you,” the redhead said, grabbing hold of the limb and shaking it. “Or would you prefer that I call you Tadashi?”

Tadashi's eyes fluttered as he tried to take in what was happening. His mouth attempted to translate his thoughts, “I, uh, don't- this is- Tadashi is, herm, fine.”

The man looked properly pleased. “Excellent. Tadashi it is, then.”

“I, ah, yes- will you… will you give me just one moment?” he asked, holding up a finger. Not waiting for an answer the robotics engineer turned to his brother, who was watching everything unfold with a curious expression, frowning profusely. “Uh, am I allowed to ask why you're working with my nurse?”

Tadashi saw something flash in his brother's eyes seconds before his confused frown was replaced with a wry smile as a bark of laughter burst from his throat. He sent him a look, one that accurately questioned his sanity.

But Hiro wasn't looking at him, opting to level an amused slant of the eyes to the redhead. “Oh, you sneak.”

Tadashi gave him a quizzical frown. “What?”

But Hiro continued to ignore him. “So that's how you found out. You let me believe that you had eyes and ears everywhere when, in actuality, you just found out by pure luck. That's totally cheating- you cheated. You were just at the right place at the right time.”

“I never lied though.” The redhead shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back casually and doing an incredible job at ignoring the stare that was being drilled into his back by the eye patch woman. “And I do have eyes and ears everywhere, just for the record.”

Hiro just scoffed, “Yeah, whatever.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, feeling lost. “Why is my nurse here?”

The young genius finally gave mercy where it was due and jerked his thumb at the man’s freckled face, aiming his words at both Tadashi and the selected few in proximity. “Connor here has been living a double life, apparently. He works at the ticket booth here-”

“And other things,” one of the children stage whispered, wiggling fingers, “illegal things.”

“-and is a nurse behind the scenes, working at Aiiku Center.” Here, Hiro leaned back, hands planted in his pockets. “And, by some stroke of luck, was assigned to you.”

Connor smiled, eyes looking off in the distance dreamily. “I kind of like to call it my day job.”

He was someone’s day job.

“I'm not sure how comfortable I feel about that.”

Instead of getting offended, his nurse laughed, the sound reverberating off the walls and setting the mood of the room. Two of the kids branched off from the woman and edged forward, closer to him. “Sorry for the secrecy, but it was best for you at the time. I'm in charge of your health, so you can trust me on that.”

Tadashi scratched the back of his neck, managing the small smile that slipped through his grasp and onto his face. “Yeah, I understand- well, I think I do anyway.” He took a deep breath. “I just don't want to be out of the loop anymore. It was unbearable.”

A hand clapped itself on his shoulder and he looked over to see Hiro, face open and ready to talk. It brought a smile in return, nervous and unsure, but hopeful.

Things were looking for the better already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, the clashing of worlds- the best of cliches.   
> What's going to happen next? You don't know. We don't know. No one knows.  
> Hopefully, inspirations comes soon or we'll have to sacrifice something important, our sanity.   
> Till next time, losers.


	20. Unlikely Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're sorry for the long wait- a year hiatus that wasn't planned- but, here it is! Finally!

If asked where Wasabi thought he would be spending the majority of his Friday night, he definitely wouldn't have said in some dirty alley in downtown San Fransokyo. No. Never in his right mind would he have guessed that he would be lurking around an even dirtier run-down building in the hopes of spotting a missing friend- said friend having just woken from a coma weeks before no less. The world was descending into chaos if Wasabi, Gogo acclaimed ‘stick in the mud extraordinaire,’ found himself in such a situation.

Not to mention he was probably suffering from a minor concussion to boot.

“This is the place,” Hiro announced, sealing their fates.

Taking one look at the place where the boy pointed, he could feel all his hopes of a normal evening dying in a pitiful whimper. As it was, if it wouldn’t have given him the biggest headache in all of existence, Wasabi would’ve groaned. 

A warehouse. Everything bad started at a warehouse, one just as dingy-looking and unkept, only Wasabi hoped there wasn’t a masked man lurking behind these old doors. Hiro had already proved adventuring in one only led to deadly experiences, so why do it again? Wasabi wished they’d go to some nice, clean hospital, one with freshly-washed sheets and disinfectant within an arm's reach, because, good lord, this place looked like it was housing at least thirteen health code violations.

He was already planning a checkup with his doctor, not wanting to add ‘disease ridden’ to his already long list of afflictions. Seriously, he was going to plan it the moment he got home, schedule it as soon as possible, and hope that no lasting damage lingered. And if it did, oh, he dearly hoped he wouldn’t have to kiss his degree goodbye.

“Should we go through the front door?” Honey asked, looking around for anyone else. The street was abandoned, which was strange because San Fransokyo was many things, but quiet was not one of them. If there wasn’t anyone here, then that meant something.

“My current size will not permit me to enter through the main entrance,” Baymax said, “It would be more efficient if I used the loading dock.”

Hiro frowned, as did the rest, and, if Wasabi's mind were not spinning as it was, he would have, too. But, presently, he did not have the brainpower to focus his thoughts of such trivial things and why they should unnerve him.

Good thing Hiro spoke up, so that Wasabi wasn't out of the loop for long. “How do you know there's a loading dock?”

But the robot did not find the curious-almost-suspicious inquiry any more concerning than the crickets playing their tune in the darkening evening, which was not at all. Instead, Baymax took the necessary steps away from them and toward the back right of the building where the ground glowed from the shine of industrial lights stationed somewhere beyond Wasabi’s line of vision. 

“Hey, no, forget about the loading dock.” Hiro flapped a hand in front of the robot's helmet, attempting to halt the bulky feet from taking another step and only succeeding in making Wasabi’s headache increase in size when the movement caught his eye. “Just karate chop the door open. No one will care if some rundown roller rink gets smashed- it's probably being run illegally anyway.”

“I must disagree,” was the ever polite response, reflective in tone. “Someone else might become distressed over the destruction of this establishment. Continuing with that fact would go against my health care code.”

Hiro huffed, apparently in no mood to deal with such things with Tadashi so close. “Ugh, fine, whatever. You can go that way or stay out here- I don't care which, but  _ I'm  _ going in.” He made to step off the robot's back, grunting in surprise when he nearly smacked his jaw against metal as his upper body jerked forward. “H-hey! What's going on?”

There was an attempt at dissecting his feet from magnetize metal, only to end in failure when his limbs resolutely remained in their footholds. Knobby knees bent and jiggled in obvious effort, but the soles of his feet wouldn't budge.

Wasabi took the time to brace himself on his knees. He needed to take some aspirin, ASAP.

Hiro growled, “Baymax, I know what you're doing- so let me go!”

The robot seemed not to hear. “Entering through the side passage appears to be the safest route, with the only disadvantage being that it takes approximately six minutes and twenty seven seconds longer to arrive at the building’s center.” The red helmet swiveled on its axis, calmly taking in the other three even as Hiro continued to struggle. “I suggest we regroup inside. Hiro and I will take the loading dock entrance, while you three enter through this door here; this way, on the chance that one of us comes in contact of… suspicious activity, the second group may proceed with caution.”

And with that, they were gone.

“Oh,” Honey said in the silence after.

Fred raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips. “That was…”

“Weird,” Honey finished.

“Shouldn't we go after them?” Wasabi asked from his spot on the curb, twisting his hands nervously, the precise pressure enacted on his knuckles soothing. “We are in a pretty dangerous neighborhood, and splitting up is never a good idea. I mean, come on, we still have to find-”

“Tadashi!” Honey and Fred interrupted, both pointing at the space just over Wasabi’s left shoulder. The burly man jerked around at their outburst, astounded to see the topic of his worry standing there, as if summoned.

Well, that was slightly unsettling, if not convenient. 

But, sure enough, that was their friend standing just beyond the streetlamp, staring at them. The smile Tadashi sent them was brittle, but honest. The wave following it was even more sheepish. “Hey, guys.”

“You’re here… and we just lost Baymax and Hiro. Great…” Wasabi moaned, sucking it up and standing upright again. A quick look to the way their youngest member had disappeared found nothing, just another empty alleyway. “We're never going home, are we?”

Tadashi didn't seem to hear him. “You alright, Wasabi?”

Gogo, now at their friend's elbow, gave him an unimpressed look. “He took a small tumble and now he thinks he’s going to die.”

“Hey, that was  _ not _ a small tumble- I fell, like, fifteen feet! No warning or anything! And concussions are serious-”

“Yeah, but you’re really pushing it. Baymax checked you out and said you’d live. Stop being such a baby.”

“That does not mean I'm-”

“Where have you been, dude?” Fred asked as he and Honey jumped Tadashi with eager hugs. “We've been mega worried about you. I was starting to think you went AWOL.”

“I'm fine, I'm fine.” Tadashi pried himself away from the crushing hug and took a step back. It's then that he seemed to notice something (or, more correctly, the lack of someone), head snapping this way and that. “Where's Hiro?”

Gogo watched him, eyeing the way his finger twitched, and answered, “Baymax took off with him somewhere… he's been acting up, so you might want to give him a checkup.”

“That's… good.”

Wasabi didn't think that was at all good. Baymax, the robot emboldened with thick armor and rocket hands, and Hiro, genius and main commander of their less-than-professional team, being separated from the main group did not spell “good” for them. They were in criminal (not to mention germ infested) territory and having their main force- the big guns, so to speak- of the team split off from the rest was not, as Tadashi had so gracelessly put it, “good.”

Honey stepped forward, hands clasped together. “Tadashi, we were so worried about you- you just disappeared and, with Yokai on the move, we thought…”

The girl's worry brought to light the reason for their impromptu adventure into the slums of San Fransokyo: Tadashi's blatant run into danger without any regard for their own peace of mind.

“Yeah, I, uh…” Tadashi seemed to get the hint of where the mood of the conversation was heading and shifted uncomfortably at the silence that followed, taking off his hat and tapping his fingers along the rim while he cast them a nervous look.

It was a quirk their friend had, fiddling with his hat; a well-known act he'd do right before an intense exam or after he had shown Professor Callaghan his first prototype of Baymax. That they were seeing it now meant one thing.

He was nervous.

“Look, this isn't really something we can talk about in the open.” The robotics engineer cleared his throat and made to scratch his neck, only to stop and motion behind him. “How about we go inside and… clear things up.”

The burly man squinted at the building behind him, knowing exactly where he  _ didn't _ want to go. Of course, there were many logical reasons why he didn't want to step foot through the door before them: many of them concerning safety violations and late night horror movies Fred had forced him to watch the week before. Though, knowing his friends and their lack of respect for his sanity, they would go inside no matter what he said. Still, it didn't hurt to try.

“You want  _ us _ ,” Wasabi made a general swirling motion, “to go in  _ there? _ ” He stabbed his finger in the direction of the building that looked to be brimming with an infestation of termites and other creepy crawlers that surfaced only in his nightmares. “You cannot be serious.”

Their friend heaved a deep breath. “Yeah, I know what it looks like, but you have to trust me- I know what I'm talking about when I say that our best chance is inside.”

“What do you mean, ‘ _ our best chance _ ’?”

“I'll explain everything inside.” He waved them forward, already heading for the building. 

No one commented on Wasabi’s sputtering choosing to follow their friend. Honey touched a manicured hand to just above his elbow, gently pushing him forward. Wasabi let himself be guided, reminding himself that he was a good friend and good friends didn't let each other enter spooky buildings by themselves.

Concussed friends, on the other hand… they deserved definite leeway. 

The door creaked when Tadashi opened it and closed with a loud slam behind them, sealing their fate in a premonition that caused chills to travel down Wasabi’s spine. The hallway was an ugly green color and looked as if it hadn't been washed for years.

“The germ count’s probably atrocious.”

There was a couch, not in as bad of condition as the building, big enough to fit a sleeping body. Wasabi almost felt he could look past the millions of microbes no doubt crawling on its surface and let himself fall into its embrace. Almost.

Tadashi made as to continue deeper into the building, following the small hallway to the door at the end, but Gogo’s foot became dead weight against it, effectively stopping their hesitant procession.

“I said I would go inside, Hamada,” she deadpanned, “and now I'm inside. Time to uphold your side of the bargain. Spill. What's really going on here?”

Their friend looked startled, gaze sweeping across them all as if seeing them for the first time. They watched as he took a deep breath, expression hardening into one of steeled determination.

“Okay, uh, so I know what you're all thinking, and no, no one kidnapped me or anything. I came here of my own free will. Honest.” He paused, scrunching up his face and tilting his head to each side. “Well, I didn't exactly walk in- I was kinda carried in on the fact that I was unconscious, but don't worry about that!” He raised his hands and shook them quickly, seeing their expressions flicker into something more suspicious. “They helped me! I swear!”

“They?”

“The women in kimonos, they… well, not them specifically, but their… group?”

“… the Fujitas.” GoGo deadpanned. “You're talking about the mafia, Hamada.”

“I, uh, yes, the mafia…”

Honey chewed her lower lip. “They… helped you? But, aren't they the ones that attacked you earlier, when you were in the hospital?”

“Yeah, and they got Gogo thrown in jail. I remember that.” Fred supplied, pausing in his inspection of the room to glance back at them. His voice echoed when he leaned over to peek inside the vacant ticket booth. “Though, this is a classic case of enemies turned friends- like, every good story has one.”

Tadashi gave a short laugh. “Yeah, that was them, but, uh, it's fine now. We've, I don't know, made peace. I don't really know what else to call it.”

GoGo crossed her arms. “What's the catch?”

“Oh, no, there isn't a catch- not really. You could say that they- how do I put this?- have been on our side the whole time?” His palms were splayed out as he talked, tone almost questioning despite the fact that he was trying to convince them of his words; it was like he was testing the waters, waiting for a sign to tell of their level of acceptance and wondering whether it'd be enough for them to believe. 

Which Wasabi didn't. He couldn't believe that he expected him to accept that- expect him to believe the insane assassin women were helping them while simultaneously trying to maim them. He didn’t want to believe.

GoGo, surprisingly, was on the same page. “Could've fooled me.”

“Okay, look, I know we've had our… differences,” Wasabi made an incredulous scoff at the choice of words, of which was purposefully ignored, “but you guys have got to trust me on this. It's different now.”

“How is it different? Cause it looks all the same to me. We're still in way over our heads.” He could see the logical sway of Honey’s head and Wasabi grasped at it, pushing forward. “We still don't know what is going on, and we don't have any kind of authority to manage what we do figure out- like, honestly, we're just a bunch of headless chickens running around the streets.” Okay, maybe not headless chickens, but definitely concussed.

“Look, I know this seems improbable-”

“More like impossible.”

“-but it's true and I wouldn't lie to you guys about something this serious.”

That gave them pause. It was true, Tadashi would never joke about anything this serious, especially when it concerned Hiro. He was a golden boy: caring and honest and true to a fault- Wasabi had never even heard the boy curse. If he said he was telling the truth, then, by the stars above, he was and, well, they should be inclined to believe him.

“‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’” Fred quoted. 

Wasabi crossed his arms and huffed. “I still think we have different opinions on what counts as a friend.”

Tadashi nudged his shoulder to the burly man’s.

“Yeah, I guess I believe you.”

The relieved smile that spread across Tadashi’s face was almost enough for him to forget where they were. “Thank you. Now, you're going to have to stay with me here, because there's one more thing you should know.”

Of course there was. But, no, he would see this through- that's what friends were for. “And what's this other thing?”

“It'd be better if I just show you.”

Wasabi tried to keep his face clear of anything as their friend made to open the door, Gogo hesitating for all of a second before acquiescing and moving out of the way. With quick steps he was leading them through a massive room that doubled as a rink and bar area, though Wasabi made sure not to touch any of the furniture and walls, still adamant in his belief that it rented space to every disease known to man.

It was otherwise unoccupied, so that was a relief. 

“Just… keep yourself open, okay?” After they nodded, Tadashi made a come-hither motion to the tables by the bar. 

A figure stepped out of the artificial shadows and into the fluorescent lighting, quick steps taking them to a place just outside their little circle. Their face was angled away, as if they couldn't bare to look at the group of amateur heroes. Wasabi frowned at the small prick of insecurity it created:  _ Was it their costumes?  _ They were a bit flashy, to be sure, but nothing too outlandish to warrant an act so rude.

“Hey, come on,” Tadashi said, offering a small smile. “What ever happened to ‘I'm ready for anything?’ Don't tell me that was all talk.”

The teasing tone their friend took on, something of which was reserved for only those the robotics engineer deemed close, seemed to shoot a shock of indignant confidence in the mysterious individual. With a huff that sounded all too familiar they were snapping their head forward and into sight, giving the group a perfect view of the impossible.

Fred gasped. “No. Way.”

Now, Wasabi had never labeled himself as crazy. Different? Maybe. Eccentric? At times. Fretful? Probably. But crazy? No, definitely not.

Though sometimes, when his vigilance for order was broken, crazy visited him. Crazy was the next door neighbor that constantly threw house parties. Crazy was wearing two different colored socks. Crazy was letting your friends convince you to join their ragtag group of vigilantes. Crazy was getting on a flying robot and scouring the city for a masked villain. Crazy was letting everything become disorganized and not putting things back where they belong- back to normalcy.

But, when he saw the person- that  _ face _ , he knew crazy had just reached a whole new level and proceeded to do the only thing he could do when confronted with such entropy.

He screamed.

It wasn't the most manly of screams, but it did justice to the feeling of panicked incredulity that had set his lungs ablaze and head pounding. The shrill sound was the only thing getting through, his ears blocked to his own hysteria and the nonsensical turn of events. He couldn't see his friends, eyes fixed forward and stapled to the face-  _ oh my god, oh my god, oh my god _ \- of crazy, but he could feel their cringes and instantly imagined the way they cupped their ears in useless protection. Still, he kept on, because this wasn't happening,  _ couldn't _ be happening. It went against everything- every system, every order, every rule.

Salvation came in the form of a hand speeding through the air and slapping over his mouth. 

He blinked back the white spots that flittered across his eyes, dazed to find a peeved looking Gogo in front of him. Though as soon as he caught sight of her he immediately quieted, experience dictating that carrying on screaming would only end with wads of chewed gum sticking to the underside of his desk.

“What is going on?” an angry voice sounded behind him and there went his heart, bursting in an explosion of fear and muscle tissue.

GoGo practically growled at him. “Don't you  _ dare _ .”

He nearly did scream again, because who was that? Two unfamiliar faces strayed in the path of his wide eyes, turning absolutely monstrous in his tunnel vision of fear. It was only quick thinking and the slapping of his palms over his mouth that stopped the mood from reaching scream fest once again; still, a muffled sound slipped through his fingers, high enough that his ears rang.

The world was a centrifuge and he the poor aqueous solution stuck in a glass tube spinning it is unmerciful grasp. Or maybe it was the concussion currently making his head feel like a beehive. Maybe he should sit down; the couch was looking more favorable with every second.

His scream seemed to nudge his friends out of their initial surprise and now they closed in with a level headedness that put Wasabi to shame. He was concussed, so who was to say he was in his right mind anyway?

“This is awesome!” Fred cried, ignoring the strangers.

Honey Lemon shuffled forward, bending over to peer cautiously at the face that had gotten them a one way ticket to a mental hospital. She licked her lips before forming the treacherous word, “...Hiro?”

She got a wide smile as an answer.

The tall girl squeaked alongside Wasabi, eyes wide as she flapped an excited hand at Gogo's shoulder. The shorter girl accepted the treatment and news with a curt nod, cementing her aloof resolve with an imprint of a small smirk.

“Oh, man, I did not see this coming! This is- your real!” Without hesitation, Fred practically jumped across the no-man’s land and threw himself at… the person. “This is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me- well, technically you, but still! Better than being a fire-breathing lizard!” The comic nerd’s weight was held surprisingly well, the other individual having apparently seen this reaction coming as he took a step away from the girls and half cradled the short boy in his arms. “Man, I gotta say- you're the real MVP for saving me back at the comic book store. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't crashed through the window like you did- though, as an expert in all things super, I gotta say that your grand entrances need some work.”

The boy with the unruly hair laughed. “I'll try to remember that next time.”

Okay, now Wasabi was surely hearing things because that voice couldn't possibly be right. It spoke of improbabilities that went beyond everything Wasabi knew to be true and cursed the order that had been perfectly set in stone until just recently. But, yet, there it was- there he was. 

It was all just too much.

Wasabi really needed to sit down. 

“Mmmnnnnope.” His sore arms found the strength to raise themselves and form an ‘X’ in front of his face, shielding him from the blatant crazy in the room. “That's it. I quit.”

Fred was set down and the not-stranger stepped forward. “Wasabi-”

“Oh, no. I literally cannot-  _ will _ not. I refuse to be a part of this- superheroes was one thing, but this- this is another!” Someone pushed his hands down and he didn't have the power to fight them and gravity at the same time so he clamped his eyes shut in retaliation, willing himself to be blind to the situation and what it meant. He stumbled back, voice getting higher. “Go away! I don't care what Fred says, you aren't real. Heck, I don't think any of us are!”

A scoff from one of the strangers that Wasabi had no intention of looking at. The less he saw, the better.

“Wasabi,” the voice in front of him said, sounding both exasperated and amused, “c’mon, don't do this. Open your eyes.”

“I'm sorry, but I don't listen to imaginary voices. That would make me crazy and I'm not crazy. I refuse to be crazy.” His frown deepened and he leaned back when a pressure appeared on his shoulder, along with another plead to open to his eyes. “I'm not crazy.”

“You aren't crazy and I'm not imaginary, I promise.” Behind them, a person chuckled and was immediately shushed by another. “Now, can you open your eyes and just look at me?”

He could feel his resolve dissolving, chipped down with the soothing tone of the words.

“Please?”

Ah, and there it went.

One eye cracked open, cautious in the new light that replaces the dark backside of his eyelids. It took a moment for his surroundings to separate and become definite shapes, framing the individual set dead center in front of him.

“See?” Hiro said in a voice deeper than he remembered. “That wasn't so hard.”

It was at that moment- with those words, so easily said- that Wasabi realized a fundamental truth of his being. That somewhere, deep in the archive of feelings and philosophies and nervous ticks within him, he believed this unholy impossibility. That, despite the evidence- and known law of nature- condoning the existence of the person in front of him, Wasabi might actually believe it all. That itself had him itching to leave and catalogue his CD collection twice over. 

Obviously, since he couldn't do that, there was only one thing that could possibly calm him and his frayed nerves.

He took a deep breath. “Three point one, four, one, five, nine, two, six-”

For a long second, no one in the room seemed to know what to do. It wasn't until his gaze unfocused to a point off the far wall that his friends processed that something was wrong.

Someone snapped a finger in his face, but he remained solid in his mindset and unfaltering in his words.

“What is he doing?” Gogo asked and he could just see her eyebrows furrowing over Hiro's- nope, nope, nope, he was not going to finish that thought.  _ Stay focused, Wasabi, stay focused _ .

Tadashi cocked his head, listening. “Sounds like he's listing off digits of pi.”

“-five, zero, two, eight, eight, four-”

“Whoa, you broke him,” Fred said in awe, watching him like an animal at the zoo. “Is he gonna do this forever?”

Wasabi recited faster and louder. He needed to reestablish order in his life and he needed to do it now, not listen to Fred and his comic book heroes. Numbers could be trusted, could be relied on.

“Wasabi, look- okay, please stop freaking out and just-”

“-two, zero, nine, seven-”

“Can you-”

“-four, four, five-”

“-for a minute and I promise-”

“-three, zero, seven, nine-”

Wasabi jerked back when something splattered on his face. He spluttered, losing his train of thought (now he'd have to start all over again). 

“-seven-” he sputtered, grimacing at the taste that attacked his mouth. Smacking his lips and running his tongue across his upper teeth did nothing to rid him of the bitter flavor and probably only made him look ridiculous. “What is- oh, gross! So gross!”

His nose twitched and he could feel his limbs turn into lead, moving through the air like glue inching out of a bottle. An itch on the ridge of his brow made itself known to him and he tried to quell the feeling, but accidently whacked himself in the face. He blinked, both upset and confused- though, suddenly, he couldn't particularly remember why.

What was he doing?

“What did you do to him?

“Fluothane,” someone said and Wasabi tried to pinpoint the origin only to have his mind start spinning in a slow merry-go-round. “Also called Halothane vapor- it's a volatile anesthetic.”

There was a grunt. “In English, please.”

“Sleeping gas.”

“Sl… eep ga-as?” Wasabi asked the room aloud, suddenly finding it difficult to voice coherent thoughts. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, the tension in his muscles dwindled and his eyelids drooped of their own accord. And he was tired, so very tired.

“He was freaking out and I didn't want him hurting himself.” A smudge of pink drifted into his vision and he thought of cotton candy and lip gloss. The images fluttered out of his head a second later, replaced by the thought of cavities and dentist appointments. He shook the image out of his head. “Should I have not done that? Do you think it will make him worse? Oh, gosh, I hope not. Maybe I should have waited for Baymax to-”

“Honey,” a voice beyond his recognition spoke, words blurring together, “it's fine.”

Wasabi felt his body lurch sideways; he stumbled, the ground rising up and tilting with the suspended axis of the Earth, and bumped into something hard. There was a clatter as something reasonably big fell over, loud and reverberating through his ears, and a curse. Somehow he had remained upright, but only just.

He was  _ really _ tired. 

“Hey, watch him! If he breaks anything-”

Garbled words spilled from his mouth and he didn't know what he said. Was it about the blobs bobbing in front of him? They danced in his fisheye vision, swaying with the world and the consonance of jargon it sung.

“Look at him, he’s totally out of it- woah, hey, somebody catch him!”

Something gripped his shoulder, but the hold fumbled as he clumsily attempted to lean toward it. Eventually it disappeared entirely when Wasabi’s balance dipped to an all time low and he stumbled to the right. A explosion of pain rushed to a point at his hip, clearing his head enough for him to distinguish a chair laying haphazardly on the ground. It took a little longer for him to realize that he was also on the floor.

But that didn't matter. What did matter was…

“Ew,” he said, drawing out the syllable with as much fervor his sluggish mouth could procure with his face half smooched against the dirty ground. “Wh… last… time… clean?”

Someone laughed and it distorted into a thick fog over his head, like a curtain closing over a stage. “You know what? I think he's gonna be fine.”

The spectrum of colors and shapes he could see was rapidly diminishing, taken over by a tsunami of haziness. Darkness, gentle and tempting, took his hand and lead him down, down, down into the depths of his mind; he bedded there, feeling at home amongst systematic planes and constant figures that fly and roam the caves of thought.

Wasabi sighed, content in the silence and order that precipitated, and fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

When Hiro finally managed to meet up with the rest of his team he had expected them to be in the midst of a legendary battle. He expected to be pulled into chaos, where quick thinking and even quicker punches were the only thing that kept one from falling behind. He expected them to be the winners of a long fight (or a somewhat decent fight at least), heroically fighting criminals and solidifying their stand on the superhero pedestal he had set them upon. He expected a lot of things.

He didn't expect them to be relaxing with said criminals.

“What,” he started, catching the attention of the room and watching their eyes automatically focus first on Baymax’s hulking form before sliding down to his own, “are you doing?”

A large television was flickering through the late night news, offering muted background noise to the quiet murmur of chatter that rolled across the air in waves. Tables, some still littered with used napkins and empty shot glasses, and chairs were organized in casual disarray, occupying the space around the entrance to a miniature dome in the middle of the gigantic room. Brown eyes widened in disbelief when he spotted bright kimonos, the women wearing them laying about around a bar a couple of feet away, some shaking up toxic concoctions while others reapplied makeup. On the other side of the room, a man in a pink blazer and a battle axe strapped to his back appeared from a hallway that was labeled as the men's room.

“Hiro!” Said boy was thankful to see Tadashi, unharmed and exactly how he had left him. His brother split from the group seated around a grand table. It was only a matter of seconds before Hiro was issued a Big-Brother hug, one that lessened the worry twisting his gut; Tadashi did always give the best hugs (well, second only to Baymax).

“Tadashi,” he said into his brother’s armpit, “what… what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you, Knucklehead.” A semblance of distance was put between them so that a hand could brush hair out of his face. The touch soothed his nerves and he allowed himself to melt between Tadashi's warm body and Baymax’s solid presence behind him, basking in the attention that made him feel safe. “You're okay, right? No bruises or broken bones? How's your head? Do you need to lie down?”

“I'm fine. Baymax took care of me.”

Tadashi looked over Hiro’s head and to his invention. “Baymax. Status report.”

He sighed and let his brother push him about with only minimal complaining, inspecting him for any injuries Hiro might not be telling him about. Baymax prattled on about his health, listing off small details that probably wouldn't mature beyond anything that a good night's rest couldn't cure; it was kind of dull to hear, but Tadashi listened to every word with an intensity that couldn't be rivaled.

Hiro tried to sneak a look around his brother's frame to get a better look at the people they'd been against for the past month. He barely caught the vibrant colors of his friend’s suits before he was pulled back to face brown eyes.

“You're not dizzy or anything? Don't feel like throwing up, do you?” 

“No. I told you, I'm fine.” Baymax had evaded the guns and bullets, too high to get caught in the car crashes. Hiro had been the farthest from the danger. 

“And your head? It doesn't feel like it's gonna burst in an explosion of brains?”

“Ew, gross, no.”

Tadashi smiled at that. “Hey, I'm just trying to hit all the bases here. Concussions are a very real thing and, though they don't normally end with brain fireworks, you can never be too careful.”

He shoved the older boy in the stomach. “I don't have a concussion and brain fireworks aren't a thing, you dork.”

But speaking of concussions...

“Where’s Wasabi?”

“Honey knocked him out with sleeping gas,” Fred said oh-so-casually and Tadashi let Hiro push him out of the way so he could see their friends. “We left him in the waiting room to ride it out.”

“What?”

“Dude couldn't handle it,” Fred continued on, still not helping, but speaking with a knowledgeable air. “Which is, statistically speaking, pretty natural. The switch from one character trope to another, whether it's from civilian to hero or enemy to ally, is always a little emotionally exhausting- what with all that character development and complex arcs to ensure those personal changes. Though most forms of literature and media tend not to dwell on those details in favor of the plot and what needs to be done in order to keep it going, most believe this is a major part of defining a character’s personality and the interpersonal relationships they form.” Here, Fred shrugged. “Basic storytelling, man.”

“What are you even saying?” GoGo asked.

The blond boy leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back legs- which, in itself, was a pretty impressive feat to do in the bulky lizard costume. Even with Fred’s laid back personality, he was far too comfortable with criminals barely five feet away. “I'm just saying- I totally saw this coming.”

“You did not.”

“I did so,” Fred argued, still balancing. “I said, and I quote, ‘oh man, this is turning out to be something out of Kurt Vonnegut’s kooky mind,’ because, let's be real here, what's more sci-fi than time travel? The answer: nothing.”

That caught Hiro’s attention. “What?”

Tadashi seemed to process something and he tensed. “You don't know…”

But Hiro was no longer listening, for something had caught his eye. It was person, somehow hiding in the back of the group while also being the radial point of the conversation. He looked past his brother’s broad shoulders at the person who was causing such a turbulence in their lives. 

His face stared back.

Well, okay, it wasn't exactly his face. But enough of the foundation- the set of the cheekbones, shape of the eyes, and stubby nose- were similar enough that Hiro had to remind himself that cloning was never anything he had been genuinely interested in or had ever looked into. No, he was staring into a distorted mirror that had abruptly crystallized before him, cracks of time blinking along its once smooth surface.

“That's me,” Hiro said.

His words broke the nonsensical chatter.  More than one individual spun and made him the center of their attention, waiting for whatever was going to happen to happen.

“That's me,” Hiro said again, pointing.

Tadashi, ever the mediator, stepped forward to shed some well-needed light on the situation. “Yes, it is- well, sort of. Okay, see, it is you, but not?” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose while muttering, “Ugh, this is not how I planned this going.”

The Hiro copy laughed and there was something off putting about it, the sound familiar even in that lower pitch; it bore more resemblance to Tadashi than it did anything else and Hiro wasn't sure how he felt about that. “Welcome to my world.”

“This is going to  _ blow your mind _ , little man!” Fred laughed, hopping from his seat and lumbering about in costume, “I mean, this is some crazy stuff- but totally awesome!”

“What Fred means is that-”

Fred cut in again. “You’re a time-traveler!”

“What.” Hiro said again just as the stranger replied, “No, I am, Fred, not him. The time portal hasn't been invented yet, so he can't even-”

“Technically, since he's you and you're him, you both are. Time-travelers, that is, with all that time-travel science and voodoo.” Fred wiggled his fingers at his head, trying to physically interpret what he thought said ‘voodoo’ looked like. “Oh! You guys should try to communicate telepathically! With your  _ minds _ !”

“That’s not- nevermind.” Hiro’s doppelganger sighed good-naturedly before catching sight of something behind him. He smiled. “Baymax!”

A sound of heavy footsteps preceded the healthcare robot, who looked too much at ease in such surroundings- among such company. A brush of metal plating and the robot in question was padding past Hiro without so much as a glance.

The stranger-yet-not walked forward past everyone. Hiro stepped back.

“Hiro, it is good to see you again,” Baymax greeted, bending a few inches forward at the waist to properly look down at the other him. “I hope you are feeling better.”

The young man shrugged, stuffing his hands inside his pockets and looking like the epitome of casual. “I'm as good as I can be.” Eyes flashed toward Tadashi and his group of friends, sharp in how they took in their drawn attention. “How’ve you been holding up? I didn't get you in too much trouble, did I?”

“There have some problems, but I have worked through them as well as I am able.” The robot rotated his head to look at Hiro followed by Tadashi. “I must express my apologies for misleading you, but I could not allow for a break in patient confidentially.”

Tadashi patted the robot on the elbow. “You don't have to apologize, Baymax. You were just following your programming.” He smiled up at the robot, the act so understanding that it wasn't hard to see how such a creation came into being in the first place. “The rest of us were just a little slow on the intake.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’ve been coming here?” Hiro didn’t know how to feel. Betrayed was a possible emotion, but that still didn't cut it, not with Baymax. Baymax, who did everything in his power to care for his patients. Baymax, who didn't have a dishonest wire in his body. Baymax, who gave out lollipops and hugs with the simplest intent of relieving pain. Baymax, who had become his best friend over the course of a few short weeks.

It still stung.

“I have many patients here.”

Of course, Baymax saw it like that. To the robot, returning here would have been nothing of consequence and certainly not the act of betrayal Hiro foolishly felt it was. He was not privatized to Hiro and his needs, instead a public service for all to enjoy, and to continue to think of him that way would be selfish.

“Yeah, well… fine, whatever.”

A pause. “Hiro, is something the matter? My sensors indicate you are not happy. Is my care inadequate?”

Before Hiro could even open his mouth to say- well, something, Mr. Time Travel was already talking and with the most insufferable smile, too. “Don't worry about it, buddy. He's just a bit put off that he can't have you all to himself now. We were never good at sharing.”

“That isn't it at all!”

“Oh, really,” he said, unimpressed. 

“Yes, really.” Hiro continued to lie, getting worked up. “And don't act like you know, because you don't.”

“Well, I am you, so…”

“Prove it,” he said, crossing his arms. Duplicating someone’s looks wasn’t farfetched (though why someone would want to copy his was a mystery even he couldn't solve). Visible proof wasn’t enough, not when there were other characteristics that made a person who they said they were. “Prove you’re me.”

Tadashi raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hiro, we already-”

“Fine.” The copycat mirrored his own stance, looking properly formidable. “Ask me anything.”

He was momentarily stunned by the instant answer to his challenge, but shook it off just as quickly. He rose to his full height, trying to make his five foot stature more imposing that it actually was- he wasn't fooling anyone if that resulting, sly grin was anything to go by. “Young’s Modulus of polyethylene terephthalate?”

“Two to two-point-seven gigapascal.” The answer was immediate and, worst of all, correct.

He wasn't undeterred.

Thermodynamics. Quantum physics. Fluid mechanics. Microbiology. He pulled out all the stops, from encyclopedias and lectures, questions and theories he was more than positive even Tadashi wouldn't know on the top of his head. He was vaguely aware of everyone in the room looking between them like a tennis match, following a conversation that was probably better left done in private- especially when his questions started bleeding into more personal topics.

“My locker combination in ei-”

“-seven, twenty, fourteen.”

“My favorite sport-”

“-soccer, but we like to watch baseball. Also, can't stand basketball, because of that one time Mikey Gordon shoved us into the spare hoop and the school had to call the fire department because the rim got caught on our belt. Which was really embarrassing, by the way, and I'm kinda mad you made me relive it just now.”

Hiro looked around the room, finding that, suddenly, there are too many people privy to this moment. Maybe he should have…

But the copycat, who was turning out to have more credibility than previously thought, seemed to take his discomfort for passage to continue. “If you want more proof, I can tell you about the physics test we cheated on and how we used Tadashi's old pair of glasses to do it- as easy as installing a mini projector with all the inscripted equations on file and using the lenses as a transparent screen- and all just because we could.” The stranger started tallying on his fingers. “Or how about the time we blew a hole in the wall of the side door when we were testing out our pocket laser cannon. Aunt Cass was so angry.” Hiro could feel his fists uncurling at each word, leveling with the disbelief slowly taking over his face. “I also can tell you about that movie we cried over- you know the one, with the boxing robot.”

Hiro did know the movie. And he had not  _ cried _ . There had been one or two sniffles, yes, and maybe a quick blinking of eyes, but that had been it. Still, even the idea that someone knew of such a detail was somewhat discomfiting and, for once, he was speechless. He was boxed in: every argument he could think of foiled by... himself.

The man that looked like him leaned back, head tilted and smile curled in a familiar expression. Victory. “Face it, I'm the real deal.”

Tadashi’s face scrunch up when Hiro looked to him. But it wasn’t the new development of Hiro’s supposed future counterpart that caused this expression, but, “You used my glasses to cheat on a test?”

“No,” Hiro immediately denied just as his look-alike said, “Yes.”

He glared at the doppelgänger. Whether or not what he was saying was true, Hiro had planned on not letting Tadashi in on his little cheating spree. Now he was going to a get a boring lecture, all for a stupid physics test that had happened two years ago. 

“We'll talk about academic morals later. Right now,” Tadashi motioned to Hiro and his sorta-twin, “what's important is that you believe what we're trying to tell you.”

Hiro blew some hair out of his eyes, rolling them in the process. “Oh, yeah, totally.”

He could see both Tadashi and the look-alike narrow their eyes at his words, drenched as they were in sarcasm. It was a bit unsettling, seeing that look on two faces and both directed pointedly at him, but Hiro stood his ground. When his resolve wavered at the stares, he tried to replace the confidence with anger instead; tried to look into Tadashi’s open face and get angry over the fact that he believed this crazy story over him.

“Hiro,” Tadashi started.

“Tadashi,” Hiro countered.

His older brother threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “Unbelievable.”

“Man, was I always this stubborn?” 

Hiro shot a scorching look to the doppelgänger, not liking to be talked about as if he wasn’t there. It increased tenfold when he heard Tadashi's response.

“All the time.”

Hiro squashed down the impulse to stomp his foot.

“What part of this is unbelievable?” Tadashi asked abruptly, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture. 

Hiro gave him a flat look, then tilted his head at the imposter. It went without saying.

“Out of everything that's happened, you draw the line at time travel?” It sounded ridiculous, even from Tadashi’s mouth. 

He'd played around at the possibility of time travel, worked around the concepts and theoretical problems that went with it. At the age of ten, he'd disproved the science of most sci-fi movies on a whim. Except there wasn't any other explanation to how this copy knew as much as he did. And Tadashi and his friends were supporting it and, as much as he argued it, they couldn't all be suffering from head trauma. 

Still, it was the concept of the matter- he didn’t like to be wrong. He would hold out as long as he could. “I'm not saying it.”

“Do you want Baymax to scan the both of you? Will that convince you?”

The doppelgänger cut in, waving his hands frantically. “Uh, no. Baymax and I have an agreement. I'm not having people see a physical diagram of my puberty or whatever. Never again.”

Hiro blinked rapidly. “Diagram of my what?”

“Not important. Baymax, keep it short and simple.”

It was silent when the robot switched his gaze between Hiro and the stranger. Baymax blinked. He rotated his head to Tadashi, and then Hiro. “His biology matches that of Hiro Hamada.”

Hiro gaped. That was it? Just like that? “So you believe this? Really?”

“The data is conclusive.”

He was the only one left who didn't believe this far-fetched tale, which was absurd in retrospect, seeing as he was never above getting out of trouble with his own number of lies. But it couldn't be as far-fetched as that, could it? Not when Baymax- a robot who was designed to learn and adapt on his own, who’s scanner couldn't possibly be at fault because Hiro had been the one to fix it- believed it true. On top of that, how could he keep arguing when evidence was on their side?

As if sensing his weakening resolve, the doppelgänger stepped closer and, to Hiro’s embarrassment, bent to be more at his level. “The theory of relativity does permit travel through space and time.”

“But to travel at a high enough velocity to bypass the speed of light to reverse time is impossible, not mention unattainable.” Hiro did not whine, but his voice did rise to a somewhat embarrassing degree. “The mass in question would reach infinity-”

“That's not the only way.”

“Wormholes.” Now Hiro did whine, exasperated by the simplicity of the solution. “You can't be serious. The chance of having two black holes-”

“Spare me the probabilities.” There was a uninterested expulsion of air and a dismissive flapping of a hand. Hiro was used to throwing other’s intellect to the side, but to have it done to himself… “The universe is full of them, so stop being so skeptical. A natural tear in space-time could be possible.”

“Quantum mechanics is a thing. It doesn't permit enough time for wormholes to stay open, much less big enough for someone to go through. It would collapse on itself.” He crossed his arms, skeptical. Science was his backup, the only thing that stood in the way of his total commitment to this story. “Unless you've somehow fixed that problem. Figured out to have limitless energy and antimatter at your disposal.”

“I didn't say I was the one who made the portal. I'm just the guy who got pulled through.” The young man paused, scratching his chin. “I took a lot of Krei Tech’s data when I first got here, but it was all on the mechanics of the portal. There was nothing in its database about how it was powered- and if there was, it was under a different name, so I must have missed it when I was searching.” 

“You hacked Krei Tech?”

There was smugness in the grin he was given. “First day here.”

Krei Tech was one of the top competitors in robotic engineering. Krei himself was at the SFIT science fair, scouting for high-end tech and possible investments when Hiro had first met the man. Hiro already knew he was at the center of this mess, but now, with this new information, he was sure he was the one behind it all. 

The other had already moved on. “After that, I've mostly been getting intel on underground dealings, tracking the money flow-”

Someone coughed.

“-hmph, yeah, okay, with Ren’s help. She owns the place,” he told Hiro as means of explanation, waving a flippant hand. Hiro saw a frowning woman and… Tadashi's nurse? “And you know Connor. Yes, he is who you think he is, and, no, we're not going to explain it.”

“Wait. Hold on-”

“We've already gone through it once, I'm not doing it again. Deal.”

The nurse leaned into his line of vision, hand raised with a cheery smile. “Hello there. Lovely to see you again. And not to worry- we've been on each other’s side for a while, so I suggest you just go with the flow here.”

Hiro didn't know what to say.

In the end, he didn't have to. The woman, Ren, stepped forward and eyed him critically, eyebrow arching high over her single eye, before moving past to the hulking robot beside him. An almost smile pulled at the corners of her thin lips.

“So this is really Baymax, huh?” she asked.

The other him grinned. “Told you not to sell him short.”

“Flying makes me a better healthcare companion,” was the robot’s explanation and Hiro couldn’t help but nod in agreement, feeling good at that impressed look Ren was trying to smother.

“I hear you have a good punch,” she said. “Nearly took one of my girls’ head off.”

Hiro frowned, focusing on the  _ my girls _ part. Her girls, did she mean…? 

But Baymax was already past it, turning his sights to the eyepatch woman. “I must apologize for any injuries I may have indirectly caused during our earlier engagement. Would you like me to schedule check-ups for anyone involved?”

The woman flapped a hand. “My girls are tougher than you think. Don't worry about it, they're fine.”

“Speak for yourself!”

The voice, annoyed and high pitched, came from behind. Hiro turned and immediately wanted to scowl because, there, followed by a posse of kids, was the girl from earlier, one of the three Fujitas who they had fought with at Krei Tech. She was still dressed in a kimono and skates, though weapon-free, and had her eyes narrowed distastefully as she looked upon the group. 

Hiro wanted nothing more than to throw his helmet at her.

Eyepatch Lady did not seem pleased with the sudden appearance either. She crossed her arms with the promise of a sharp scolding. “Momo, I'm sure I told you and the kids to stay upstairs and mind your own business.” 

The girl shifted uncomfortably, but still didn't back down. “We couldn't sleep with all the noise and-”

“We wanted to see the cool robot,” interrupted the only other girl in the group, arm looped around the waist of a boy who looked to be her twin. The statement was seconded by unabashed nods of enthusiasm from the three boys, eyes already glued onto the hulking form of Baymax.

The other him laughed at that, poking at the robot good-naturedly. “Looks like you've got quite a fanbase.”

Baymax swiveled his head to properly look at the small group, body following in a slow turn, careful not to knock anything or anyone over. A large hand was raised and rotated in a clockwise circle. “Hello children. It is good to see you are all still healthy since our last meeting.”

Five pairs of eyes blinked back in unison. 

“Baymax?” A larger boy in the back called, uncertainty leaking in his eyes. “Is that you?”

“Affirmative.” Thick knees bent so that the robot’s form was more efficient to talking to the younger (and shorter) audience. “I understand that my armor can appear threatening, especially compared to my original, more huggable design, but please do not be afraid. I will not harm any of you and wish to continue our relationship of healthcare companion and patient. So, you must-”

“Wow!”

As one unit, the children rushed forward. They circled the robot, jumping and tripping over one another in their haste to get close. Baymax lifted his hands up when one of them smacked their forehead against the back of his palm, voicing a sincere apology and warning to execute caution. The warning was acknowledged with chaste nods and a casual ‘yeah, sure,’ their priority being to inspect every inch of the upgraded bot before the night was over. They went on about his armor, grabbing hold of his arms and demanding he lift them up. 

“So cool, Baymax!” The girl twin spun on her heel, hair bobbing as she lost balance and caught herself on a large, metal hand. “Red is totally your color.”

“Yeah, you look like a complete bada-”

Ren plopped a hand over the boy twin’s mouth, eyebrows raised.  “Okay, we get it.”

Hiro edged away from the kids crowding Baymax, strangely uncomfortable. Unfortunately, his shifting drew some unwanted attention his way. He spotted a familiar head of spiky hair the exact moment Taka’s bright eyes did him. The boy let out an exuberant yell, bypassing the the other rink occupants and practically tackling Hiro to the ground. 

Taka grabbed his face, uncaring that he was crossing personal boundaries. His head was turned this way and that, neck protesting at the awkward bends it was forced to endure; in the moments where Hiro still reeled in shock of the abrupt manhandling of his person, it left open the option of comparing him to his older likeness a few feet away. “You're the coolest person I've ever met! Why didn't you tell me I already knew you!”

“Because you didn't-” Hiro tried to push the other away, but only succeeded in having his own face looking at the ground as the other dodged his hands and bequeathed him a noogie. “Hey!”

“I mean, I don't really get what's going on… but, there's two of you! How cool is that?” A small laugh floated between them, guileless in its incredibility as the boy went along and answered his own question. “Pretty cool!”

Finally, Hiro was free. He attempted to smooth down his hair, huffing self righteously. “I-”

“What's with the costume, anyway? Is it, you know, for the  _ time travel thing _ ?” The last few words were whispered behind his hand as if the entire room didn't already know about it.

“No, it's not.” He made a show of wiping imaginary dust from his shirt so he didn't have to make eye contact, his chest plate clicking against the buckle at his wrist. Then a thought occurred to him, and he paused. “Hold on. How do you know?  _ How long _ have you known?”

The thought of being the last to know about this secret- technically,  _ his _ secret- was just a little upsetting. These strangers (criminals, no less) knew more than him, and his pride, one that swelled in the glow of being right and smarter than the rest of the world, took a hit because of it. He had the most right- if not the only right, to know what his future held and finding out that he was the last to be check marked off this metaphorical list made him feel… unimportant.

“I overheard Ren talking to Connor an hour ago.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Eyepatch Lady and the redhead standing next to her, scowling and waving respectively. “Then, when I was telling Momo, Aiko and Zuko walked by and heard, and then Oka asked what we were whispering about and I couldn't just not tell him.”

“Oh,” he said lamely, rubbing at the back of his head.

The other boy pushed past the potential awkward lull with a quick laugh. Without warning, as Hiro was starting to understand was his way, he grabbed at Hiro’s glove. “Oh, sweet, look at your hands. They're all huge and, wow, are those magnets?”

He yanked his hand back, only for his foot to be grabbed. His arms pinwheeled as he tried his hardest to stay standing with only one leg. “Could you not.”

Taka paid him no heed, poking at the magnet embedded in his sneakers. “Whoa! What do these do?”

“What do you thi- they're shoes and they  _ belong on the ground. _ ” Hiro finally tugged his foot free, bumping into the hard planes of Baymax’s stomach. The other boy followed, tailgated by kids he didn't recognize; their faces were sketched with lines of curiosity and eagerness, discerning the child genius in the way it reminded him of first days at schools. Even the blonde Fujita was looking at him, lips pursed in consideration.

Hiro patted his pockets before finding the right one. Before the other boy could go on another talking spree, Hiro pulled out the knife he had been hiding for the last couple of days. “Here.”

“Hey! You remembered!” Taka said in his excessively cheerful way. “Thanks!”

“Don't mention it.” Hiro ignored Tadashi’s inquiring look, complete with raise eyebrows. “I, uh…”

“Hi! I'm Aiko!” The words nudged the moment aside, coming from the girl with curly hair, leaning over Taka’s shoulder and grinning when her brother peered over the boy's other side, chirping a complementary, “And I'm Zuko!”

Another boy shifted to Hiro’s left, heftier than the rest with a buzzed haircut. He smiled shyly, showing a snaggletooth. “Oka.”

“Er, okay…?”

As if sensing his rising apprehension, the other him stepped forward. Putting a hand on Hiro’s shoulder (Hiro nearly jumped out of his skin), he shooed the kids away. “How about you give us some space, yeah?”

The eye-patch woman was far more blunt. “Get out,” she commanded the kids.

“But-” Taka started.

“ _ Now _ .”

They obeyed, but with much grumbling and heavy feet, drawing out the moment until the rink owner threatened to call their parents and tape them to their beds. After that, they quickly disappeared, calling goodbyes to Hiro like it was natural. Hiro flushed and tried his hand at a wave, dropping it immediately when he heard Honey and Fred coo behind him.

Once they were gone, his older brother stepped forward to stand next to him, messing up his hair. “They seem nice.”

“Yeah, well, you could've pulled me out of that anytime,” Hiro muttered.

Tadashi merely smiled. “And have you skip out on socializing with kids your age? Not a chance.”

Hiro socked him on his good arm.

Like he was going to start hanging with a bunch of criminals’ kids just because they'd been introduced into his life. He'd had plenty of chances to connect with his age group before advancing up the academic ladder, but his intelligence always set him apart and that was fine. Taka was cool and all, but Tadashi’s friends-  _ his _ friends from the lab could actually keep up with him.

“How sweet,” Ren said dryly from Hiro’s other side. “Not that I'm just absolutely thrilled at your social skills, but can we steer this friend fest back to more important matters? We are in the middle of a turf war, not to mention the whole Yokai business.”

Honey spoke up for the first time in a long while, a bright pink splotch in the muted background. “Turf war? You're talking about the conflict between you and Yama, right?” She was given a few incredulous looks, brushing them off with a shrug. “It's all over the news. There's been a few reported shootings, no casualties yet, and gang graffiti has been popping up everywhere, regardless of land ownership. If you add that to the fact that the number of missing persons have increased dramatically over the last few days, all of whom had vague ties to the mob and, more specifically, Yama, then it’s pretty easy to make a connection. It's all happening on a large enough scale for the public to notice and no amount of bribery can hide that.”

Gogo stepped up to the girl's side. “Yama’s slipping.”

Ren nodded. “It isn't helping that there was an incident at his own, private base. It's not just me and my girls- a lot of people are beginning to pull at their leashes and he's got only so many hands. If he doesn't do something, and soon, we're going to be caught in the biggest storm San Fransokyo has ever seen.”

Hiro bit his lip at the brief recollection of his time at Kobe Hill. If Taka was here that meant that these people- these  _ criminals _ , were the reason he'd gotten out alive. He wondered if he should thank them.

Another time, he decided.

Honey tapped a finger to her chin, lips pursed. “But I heard that this is a long time coming thing- that Yama’s been having discourse in his inner circle for months now. Even his people in the government are slipping- the mayor’s old secretary was one of his informants and it was an anonymous leak that did her in, which means that someone had it out for her or her employer.” Upon seeing the Hamadas’ raised eyebrows in question, she grinned sheepishly. “My  _ tio  _ Miguel is a cop and, well, gossip is gossip.”

If Ren cared that one of their group had direct relations to a member of the police force, she didn't show it. “She's right. It all came to head a month or so ago at one of his weekly street fights.”

Hiro snapped to attention. Uh oh. He knew where this was going. Hopefully no one would bring it up…

“So, you’re the kid Ren told me about earlier this year. The one that humiliated Yama during one of his own bot fights.” Connor said casually despite the constipated expression slapped on Hiro’s face, and laughed. “What was it that you said again? ‘No more little Yama,’ was it? Classic.”

The boy shuffled nervously, casting a quick glance at Tadashi and his clenched jaw. No one seemed to have gotten the memo that he didn't do that anymore, let alone talk about it. “I, ah, yeah, that was me, but I don't see how that has anything to do with this…”

“Oh, it has everything to do with this.” The red haired man tapped the side of his nose, leveling Hiro with a sympathetic look before continuing. “Because of that bust you and your brother caused, the authorities had leading evidence to Yama’s counterfeiting scheme. Almost got him locked up for good- too bad he’s got connections." 

One of the girls laughed from her seat at the bar, calling out a playful, "Yeah, he sprouted out of there like a rose bud in spring."

Hiro had nearly forgotten about the other Fujitas up until now, the only two girls who hadn't introduced themselves, speaking not a word. They lounged at the tables nearby, reapplying makeup even as they listened intently. 

Ren ignored them. “The point is you two started something. Yama lost a lot more than he let on on that bust.”

“How much?”

“About three quarters of his real estate, all of his stock exchanges, and seven international deals that fell through.”

Hiro felt multiple sets of eyes on him and the uncomfortable prickle of heat at his neck. He hadn't purposely tried to take down the mob boss (the man hadn't looked like he could handle a 3D printer, much less rule over most of the crime lords). It had been a bot fight and Hiro had had every intention of leaving with his winnings, Yama or no Yama.

Besides, it wasn't as if he'd called the cops. He and Tadashi had gotten arrested with the rest of them. 

“He's been trying to get it back for a while now, but it's been slow. He has to make sure no one gets a whiff that he's weak. He'd get ripped to shreds if word got out. Probably why he made a deal with that Yokai fellow in the first place.”

“And you know this… how?”

Ren jerked a thumb at the two men at her side. Tadashi’s nurse smiled, while the other, a lanky boy with piercings, muttered something about ‘remaining anonymous.’ “We've got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“So, Yama and Yokai. What connects them?”

“They're in cahoots. Obviously. Yama’s been letting Mr. Masked-Man run free in his territory while he gets new intel on tech to steal.”

Hiro’s head spun. The man in the mask was working with Yama? Yama, the head of the mafia, a crime lord- fat, stupid Yama. This was getting more and more ridiculous, his past teaming up against him in a wacky tag team. Though, that did explain where Ren and her Fujitas came in.

“So what do we do?” As much as he hated to admit it, he was dealing with people who were more informed than he was. If he was going to take down Krei, then he needed their help.

Hiro’s older self snorted, as if the answer was right in front of them. “Simplify the equation- take out Yama.”

Ren nodded. “If we take him down, we can cut Yokai's resources. The less he has on his side, the easier he'll be to catch.”

“Aren't you, technically speaking, on Yama’s side?” Tadashi asked. 

“You're still breathing, so I'd say no, I'm not. My girls aren't out for your head anymore either.” Ren glanced at his other self. “We've come to a sort of agreement.”

Hiro eyed his doppelgänger, who gave him a smug grin.

Connor patted Tadashi’s good shoulder. “I think we talked with most of the hitmen. You're not on anyone’s hotlist anymore.”

Honey clapped while Fred cheered. “That's a relief!”

It was a relief. The problem of protecting Tadashi had been plaguing Hiro for days and now that it was fixed, no help from him, it was startling. He’d dived head first into this mess to keep his brother safe, taking on the mantel of the protector, only to discover the job was being done for him. He felt useless. 

“Now all we have to focus on is Yama and Yokai- whoever he is,” GoGo said, brushing her bangs out of her face. “You don’t happen to know, do you? We've got… ideas, but that's it.”

Ren snorted. “It's a well-kept secret. The only person who knows is Portal Boy and he's keeping his trap shut.”

Everyone snapped to look at Hiro’s double. 

“You know who the man in the mask is?” Hiro felt stupid the moment the question left his mouth. Of course his older self would know, he'd already gone through this. He'd uncovered the man in the mask.

Something flashed on the other him’s face, flitting away in an instant. “Yes. I know who he is.”

A moment of silence.

“Well,” Hiro said, “tell us and let's get this over with.”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“I'll help you as best I can to make sure everything goes smoothly, but other than that I'm not fighting your battles for you. You want to know who he is, you'll have to figure it out yourself.”

“So you’re completely fine with saving us from mafia thugs, but you can't-”

“Won't,” older him corrected.

“-tell us who the masked-man is?”

“Nope. I'd like to keep the space-time continuum intact, if that's fine by you.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “Let's not push our luck.”

“But you're here!” Hiro said, waving him up and down. “That must automatically change things. You're interacting with people- with  _ me _ !”

A shake of a head made it seem as if Hiro just wasn't getting it. “As long as the overall timeline follows the same path, we’ll be fine. You're still following the general path I did. If I told you major spoilers, you'd act accordingly and go way off course.”

“I would not.”

“Yes, you would. Trust me; I've been through it. You totally would.” He sighed. “Look, think of this as a major plot point in one of Fred’s comics. While I can meddle in most instances of the timeline, there are events that I shouldn't interfere with. This is one of them. It's best if I let it run it's course like it did with me.”

“You're just picking and choosing whatever point in time you think is OK?”

He shrugged. “It's worked so far.” Something must’ve shown on Hiro’s face because his older self continued. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get to where you need to be.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, but Hiro found they did the opposite. Hearing them struck a chord in his head, reminding him just who he was talking to and what he was actually saying- that his future was someone else's past. The thought that his actions were set in stone, albeit with some leeway, was unsettling. He'd never cared to evaluated his existence and now he was being told that no matter what he would do, it had already happened. What he chose to do was predicted, his whole life predicted-  _ he _ was predictable.

“And where do I need to be?”

“Nice try- like I’m going to spoil everything for you.”

“Oh c’mon! Just say it! We already know it's Krei- it doesn't take a genius to figure out he's as guilty as they come!”

His older self’s face remained passive.

“You think it's Krei?” Ren asked dubiously. “Alistair Krei? Of Krei Tech? You think he's Yokai?”

“Uh, he was at the Exhibition the night of the fire, he wanted little Hiro’s microbots, and he and Callaghan had previous history. He's got the making of a real supervillain,” Fred said, high-fiving a Fujitas when she said, “Definitely.”

“Who else could it be?” Honey asked.

When his older self didn't so much as make a peep, Hiro sniffed loudly and looked away sharply. “It won't matter who he is or isn't once we catch him. And we will catch him- there's nowhere for him to run, not anymore.”

That piqued of few people’s interest, namely Ren and her two informants. Distrust still lingered and made him twitch at their faces. “You know where he is?”

“No-”

“-yes,” other him said. 

Fred had no qualms about revealing such information. “He's on Akuma Island. That must be his evil lair.”

Hiro wanted to palm his forehead. Didn’t his friends know not to give away all they knew to a bunch of criminals?

Ren was giving them an incredulous stare like she couldn’t believe she heard them right. It sparked Hiro’s anger: never one to let adults think they knew better than him when, in fact, they didn’t. “And you were planning on doing what exactly?” she asked. “Just waltzing in like you owned the place? Like a bunch of tech-savvy vigilantes?”

“No,” Hiro defended as his other self said, “Yes.”

Hiro rounded on the figure. “Will you stop doing that?”

“I’ll stop when you stop being difficult. She’s trying to help.”

“I'm sorry if I'm suspicious of criminals!”

“Technically, you were a criminal a couple of months ago.”

He was so not doing this. “Bot fighting is not illegal.”

“You're right. Betting on bot fighting- now that's illegal. You did it, so, ergo, you were a criminal.”

Again, Hiro felt the desire to throw his helmet, only this time his target was himself- older him, not him  _ him _ . “Says the guy working with actual criminals- the ones who tried to kill us!”

“Hey, I've been here for weeks and I'm not dead yet.” Behind him, Ren grudgingly nodded, waving a hand as if to say,  _ he's right _ . “They've only double-crossed me once and that turned out… somewhat okay. That aside, they've been clean for- what, two weeks? Given the circumstances, I think that counts as enough time to prove they're not complete trash.”

A few of their companions made offended noises. Honey, the closest of his friends to his older self, frowned and wacked the teenager on the arm. “Don't be rude,” she scolded.

Hiro squints. “I can't tell if that was supposed to help me agree with you or not. Ugh. Can't you just answer my questions?”

“Will you question my answers?”

Hiro growled, his temper rising. How could someone that was supposed to be him be so frustrating? He already had one brother; he didn't need another. 

Older him crossed his hand and jutted out a hip, appearing annoyed. Heavy boots tapped a steady rhythm onto the floor, doubling the idea. “Look, we both know it'll be easier if you team up, so what's the problem?”

What was his problem? Did he even know?

“I agree with them,” GoGo said, breaking the ice like it was nothing and ignoring the astonished look Hiro sent her. “And as much as I don’t like them, their plan is solid. If we weaken Yama, Yokai won't have anymore aces up his sleeve. Less surprises and less problems.”

Honey nodded. “And all of us working together would make catching him easier.”

“Yes!” Fred cheered. “A superhero team up!” He offered a fist to one of the fujitas and, after a moment of surprise, the girl bumped her fist with his. He went a little overboard with the explosion sounds, but it was followed by giggles.

Hiro couldn't refuse now, not when everyone seemed to want to wait and take the chance with these strangers. His hands were tied. 

Maybe it was a good idea- or, at least, an idea worth trying. Maybe all this waiting and planning would pay off. They were one step closer to the man in the mask. One step closer to finding out the man responsible for shattering Hiro’s perfect world.

“Guys…?”

Hiro, along with every other person in the room, swiveled his head towards the breathy voice. And there was Wasabi, leaning heavily against the door leading towards the entrance, pushing his glass goggles up to wipe blearily at his eyes. There was a pattern pressed into his cheek and his clothes look rumpled from sleep.

“Wasabi! How you feeling, dude?”

“I'm- ugh, my head hurts like crazy.” The dark skinned man groaned, stepping into the room. “But, man, did I have the craziest dream. You guys aren't gonna believe this, but we were superheroes and there were two Hiro's and-  _ oh _ .”

It was then that he looked up, face freezing into an expression of comedic surprise. Hiro could relate, imagining what they looked like- a mismatched band of nerds and criminals in colorful costumes- and sent his friend a sympathetic grimace. From off to the side, a Fujita blew a kiss, winking. 

“Okay, not a dream- that wasn't a dream. I'm not dreaming and oh boy, yeaup, there's two of you.” Hiro gave his doppelgänger a bewildered look, only to have it mirrored back at him. Wasabi watched them for a moment and swayed on his feet, gripping the doorframe to keep himself balanced. “I'm OK, I'm OK- I can-” Wasabi paused in his heavy breathing, gaze towards the ceiling and distant, thinking. “Nope.”

He fainted.

There was a moment of silence and then, Honey made a little, awkward laugh. “Well,” she said, “at least he didn't scream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is in its last stretch and we are determined to finish it! So, please, stick with us!


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